


Once Upon

by neaf



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-10
Updated: 2013-04-09
Packaged: 2017-12-08 01:23:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 53,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/755344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neaf/pseuds/neaf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enchanted AU: Kurt Hummel loves New York, loves his job and his life in the city, but while everybody around him is lost in the fairytale of love, Kurt’s alone. That is, until the night the world drops an actual fairytale right in his lap.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Not necessary to see the Disney movie "Enchanted" beforehand, but it helps.

Kurt loved New York for three reasons.

The first was the fact that it was where his life truly began, his own personal equivalent to climbing out of the proverbial pit that was high school and finally stepping into the sunshine. The second was that it wasn't Ohio.

The third reason had a lot to do with the volume of bars within walking distance of his front door.

To be fair, there were more reasons than just those three (the fashion, the park, the sounds, the lights, Times Square, Broadway), but they were pretty much the top of his list. Circled. And underlined. Twice.

Grimms was a morbid looking cellar bar with a black front door, something equivalent to a suburban haunted house, but the inside made all the difference. The lights were warm and welcoming, the tables were mahogany wood with plush leather booths, and thanks to the flawless Madame Belle keeping bar, Cosmos for Queens were cheaper than beer.

It was a gimmick, most of the time. Drag queens and fishnet shirts on fridays, and nary a dart board in sight - but after twelve hours under his desk lamp going over the next season's line, it felt like a full body hug. With alcohol.

Kurt sipped his drink while he watched two boys by the bar, both of them shaky and grinning a little too widely, digging their hands into each other's back pockets, stealing kisses and sweet sideways glances. _Underage,_ he thought. _Probably with fake IDs. Thrilled and terrified and living the good life, and no doubt madly in love._

He sighed.

_They're always madly in love._

He jerked bodily in his seat when a loud THUMP heralded Rachel's arrival. She dumped her coat and bag on the table, and dropped sharply into the second chair, face drawn intensely tight.

Kurt arched an eyebrow at her. 

Rachel had been his best friend since high school, though they'd hated each other for half of it. But with joint aspirations of theatre and music and New York City, somehow they'd found each other in the backwash of seedy Lima miscreants, and held on for dear life.

He loved Rachel, even if he didn't always like her. She'd changed so much from the self-obsessed schoolgirl hellbent on stardom, especially once she'd found it. Now the poster girl for all things modern theatre, she spent about as much time signing autographs as she did talking incessantly about her next big show.

At least, she used to. Even fame had its limits, and the last few months had been taken up with what she'd colourfully dubbed her "hiatus from the Broadway firmament". Her sudden disillusion with the glamour and glitz would have been startlingly out of character ten years ago, but after hundreds of rolled out red carpets and patented signature poses, he could easily understand the inclination.

Eyeing her carefully, he took in the stiff curl of her shoulders and the way she wouldn't quite meet his eyes. 

He sipped his drink. "Bad day?"

She drew a deep breath, and what he'd mistaken for a look of aggravation suddenly burst into a giant, disbelieving grin. "No, actually."

His mouth pinched in curiosity. "Do tell."

"I - I met someone," she said softly, tucking her hair behind her ear.

Kurt's brow shot up in surprise, and he wondered how that single physical act could reduce her to the high school girl he once knew.

Her shoulders lifted up to her ears, and her eyes trailed over the ceiling with the giddy look of nervous delight. "Well, _met_ isn't the right word."

"You un-met someone?" he asked dryly, glancing back to the bar.

"I'm serious!"

"So am I," he countered. "You're the one talking gibberish. Spill."

"It's actually…" She played with her nails for a moment, trying to find the right phrase, and her mouth opened for a long pause before she spoke again. "I don't know what it is. But it feels-" she stopped to fan her face before she pressed both palms to her cheeks. "It feels like a _fairytale_."

"Oh god, not you too," he said, rocking back in his chair in defeat.

"What do you mean not me too?"

"Everybody's making -" he gestured to the bar, "goo-goo-eyes at each other and groping in public and waxing poetic about true love." He sipped his drink. "Finn called me yesterday, just to talk about his girlfriend. Do you know how many times you can say 'uhuh' in a flawless monotone before the other person notices? Infinite, Rachel. When the other person is Finn, that number is _infinite_."

She smiled at him softly. "It's gonna happen for you too, you know."

Kurt scoffed into his drink.

"Enough about me, how was work? I know you hate working saturdays," she said, finally removing her bag and coat from the table.

"Aren't you going to get a drink?"

Her shoulders drew up in a shy shrug as she blushed. "I'm not staying, I'm… going out. For the night. I won't be home till tomorrow."

He tipped his head appreciatively. "A night with someone you just un-met. I'm so proud."

She slapped at him playfully from across the table, laughing.

"Go," he instructed, and saluted her with his drink. "Have fun. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Are you sure? I wanted to catch up first! I haven't seen you since thursday! What's new?"

He sighed. "Rachel, I design clothes. Every day. Surrounded by women who are so stressed out their teeth clatter louder than their Manolo's, and men who literally hiss like cats when they see someone in last season's boots. If one more person asks me if they look fat I might _actually_ jump off the Brooklyn bridge," he fixed her with a stern look, "Nothing _new_ ever happens to me."

Giggling, she reached over and rubbed his hand. "But you love your job."

"But I love my job," he repeated, sipping his drink.

She tilted her head at him affectionately, and he waved her away with dismissive hand. 

"Go," he insisted. "Have all the sex. Then never, ever tell me about it."

She laughed, fixing him with a fond smile. "You need change for a cab?"

"I'll walk home," he said.

Her eyes narrowed into a scowl. "Kurt."

"I'll be fine." He met her gaze with mock sincerity, pressing a hand to his heart. "No alley hookups with tall dark strangers, I promise."

Suddenly curious, he watched her as she rummaged around in her bag for a moment and produced a can, holding it out to him.

"Pepper spray? Seriously?"

"Take it," she insisted forcefully, leaning over the table to push it against his chest. 

" _Fine_."

"And Kurt?"

He glanced up expectantly, swirling his drink.

"I'm gonna say 'I told you so', some day."

Rolling his eyes, he raised a hand at her and smiled as he mouthed; "Go."

She kissed his cheek before she left, sweeping out the door with an irritatingly gleeful skip in her step.

"Even the Mona Lisa is smiling," Kurt grumbled, finishing his drink and pushing his glass across the table. 

He rubbed his eyes briefly, exhausted and stiff from his shoulders to his hips, which flared in painful reminder as he dragged himself out of his seat.

The streets were a welcome cool change from the warmth of the bar, and the breeze washed over his pink face, left flushed from the alcohol and too rosy against the rest of his pale complexion. He hated that one drink left him looking like a painted marionette, but at least it was dark.

He made his way home slowly, eyes down and drifting over the pavement. He felt safer walking in the dark if he avoided eye contact with anyone, but despite the pepper spray tucked into his shoulder bag, he felt the familiar warning prickle up his spine; a byproduct of New York City at night.

A loud thump echoed across the asphalt, and Kurt registered the sound of a body hitting the ground. _Just keep walking._

"Fucking fairy!"

His head lifted up at the taunt, glancing around frantically as his hand fumbled at the clasp of his bag. But it wasn't aimed at him.

More thuds met with a scraping sound and a loud, startled shout, almost drowned by the deafening beat of his heart in his ears. He turned again, glancing around in rapid jerks until he caught sight of the small mob by the alley entrance.

Three men stood over a smaller figure, hunched on the ground.

 _Run,_ his heart cried.

The lump in his throat held tight, too big to swallow, and his hand found and gripped the pepper-spray can in a fist.

He was four strides across the road before he realised he was running in the wrong direction.

"Stop it!" he shouted, holding up the can, trembling and trying desperately to steady his arm. "Let him go!"

 _What are you doing?!_ his head screamed. _Run!_

The man who turned to him had beady eyes and near-white lips, peeling back over yellow teeth. "Fucking fag night, is it?"

Kurt was going to say something witty, he was sure of it. Something brave and just a little bit cheesy with a one-liner punch, but mostly it came out as _tsssssst_ when his finger fired off before his mouth did.

Yellow-teeth guy fell to the ground with a scream and a dull thump, thrashing and scraping at his eyes as the other two turned around.

"Let him _go_!" Kurt shouted as forcefully as he could, but the sound still came out cracked and far too high to be anything but comical.

The two men were laughing, moving in slowly like shabby, toothless lions eyeing off an easy dinner. 

Kurt gulped, steadying his arm with his other hand and alternating pointing the spray between them. "This burns like hell. Don't believe me? Ask your friend Blinky over there," he tipped his head, "I'm sure he's having a great time."

He was certain one of them was about to say something. Some insult or slur, or even just bare what few good teeth they had left, but Kurt never found out. The rush came all too quickly; a flash of dark blue and silver, the sharp hiss of metal followed by a crack, then another, and the sickening thumps of both men crashing to the pavement in front of him.

Kurt froze, eyes wide and jaw hanging open, struggling for comprehension. A groan let him know they weren't unconscious. _Or dead_ , his mind supplied.

Suddenly a hand found his bicep, hauling him around in a half circle as he stumbled and found himself pressed to someone's chest.

Huge tea-coloured eyes under curls of dark hair pressed in far too close to his face, and he gasped sharply in shock. 

" _Run._ "

Kurt staggered with the pull, fumbling and dropping his can as he raced across the pavement in the grip of a stranger, ignoring the angry cries from behind.

They tore down the streets, past staring onlookers and up the next block until the sound of footfalls and grunts behind them finally faded away. _Don't look back_ , he repeated to himself, remembering what he'd always been told, _don't look back, it slows you down._

He pounded across the sidewalk, breathless and aching, adrenaline still burning in his veins like battery acid. Suddenly aware of the silence, he threw out his arm to catch the one holding on to him. 

" _Stop_!"

Kurt crashed into something hard before stumbling backwards and falling gracelessly on his ass. He blinked, and stared, and blinked again, sucking sharp breaths in through his mouth.

The man hovered above him, just a dark silhouette outlined by a streetlight before he crouched down and met Kurt's frantic eyes.

"Are you alright, brave knight?"

Kurt's eyelashes fluttered in utter confusion as he tried to process what was happening. "Wh-what?"

The man tilted his head, dark curls falling across smooth olive skin, eyes too bright and almost hypnotising in the dim evening glow of the city. "I asked if you were alright?"

His voice was too soft, and too warm, just like the hand that reached out and rested on Kurt's knee.

"I- I-" Kurt gulped around vowels. "Who- What?"

"You saved me," the man said with a gentle smile, and Kurt's heart almost stopped in his chest at the sight.

"I - saved you?"

"Yes," he laughed softly, still staring with those damn honey tea eyes.

_Stop looking at his eyes._

"You were being attacked," Kurt said numbly.

"And I still would be, if it weren't for your courageous intervention," he insisted, reaching out to help him up.

Kurt stared at the leather-gloved hand for a long time before he took it, wincing as a sting flared in his grazed palm. He groaned as he was hauled up from the concrete, still dazed and staring stupidly around them both. 

"Are you- okay?" he asked, glancing back to the stranger and catching the red flash of blood near his hairline. "You're bleeding!"

Dark eyebrows shot up in surprise and confusion. "Bleeding?"

Kurt gestured to his forehead, and the man dusted across his own gently and flinched. "Oh!"

"Do you need to go to the hospital?"

Again, he was met with the same confused expression. "Hospital?"

Kurt narrowed his gaze, and stiffened with a gasp when he finally took in the whole picture.

The man was wearing a tunic, an actual _tunic_ , of deep navy blue, emblazoned with some kind of silver crest. There was a brown leather belt slung low at his waist, holding the sheath of a sword - _a sword?_ \- and below it fell tighter black pants of an unfamiliar fabric, ending with long leather boots. 

"Oh god," Kurt breathed. "I rescued a cosplayer."

The man's mouth curled into a gentle smile at the edge, but his eyes were still dark and his brow still drawn tight in confusion. "My dear, brave knight, I think you have me mistaken for someone else," he said genuinely. 

So genuinely, in fact, that Kurt stared openly in bewilderment.

"You - I -" He shook himself to clear the jumble in his head. "Okay, I don't know what you guys are doing out this time of night, or if there's some kind of _convention_ in town right now, but this is a bit too much for me considering we were nearly killed a minute ago. So I'm going to go home, and have a hot bath, and pretend like this," Kurt gestured between them. "Never happened."

"W-wait," he said, holding up both hands in supplication. "Please."

Kurt's breath escaped him again at the look in those eyes, those goddamn eyes that made him feel like his heart was being dragged down his ribcage like a xylophone.

"What?"

"Your name," the man begged. "At least tell me that, so I can write songs in honour of your bravery this night."

Kurt's mouth fell open. "Wow, you're really dedicated to this stuff, aren't you?"

The man's brow lifted again in question.

Kurt huffed out a sigh. "Kurt," he said. "It's Kurt."

The smile that spread across the man's face sent a wave of warmth from Kurt's stomach up to the lump in his throat.

"Kurt," the man repeated, smooth and beautiful like a distant bell. He stepped in, taking both of Kurt's shoulders in his hands and letting his gaze trail slowly over his face. " _Kurt._ I am Prince Blaine of the Sovereign Kingdom of Daltasia. And I am forever in your debt."

Kurt tried to remember how to breathe.

"I- I-" he stuttered gently, finally settling on a numb smile. "Okay."

As Blaine released his shoulders Kurt felt them slump, and a sharp twinge down his sore spine to the slowly blooming bruise on his ass shocked him back to reality.

Blaine was still watching him. "Can you perhaps grant me one more boon before you go?"

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Okay, honestly, who talks like that?"

With a tiny step back, Blaine blinked at him in surprise, his expression bordering on stung.

Kurt tried to fight the sudden twinge of guilt. _Oh god, I feel like I just kicked a puppy._

"I didn't mean that, I'm sorry," he said. _Why are you apologising to this lunatic?_ "I'm tired, and I just-" he waved an arm, his eyes closing briefly in exhaustion, "need to go home."

Blaine's expression drifted into what Kurt could only interpret as sad resignation. Something in his chest clenched tight.

"I won't keep you," Blaine said softly, bowing his head before he moved to leave.

"Wait, wait," Kurt groaned, stepped forward and lazily swatting at the air. "What do you- need?"

A grateful, relieved smile that washed over Blaine's features.

"Do you know the way to the nearest castle?" he asked, glancing around carefully. He wet his lips carefully, almost like he was holding back fear. "I am … very lost in this strange land, and seek passage back to my own."

Kurt boggled. "You just don't quit, do you?"

"Quit - what exactly?"

It took a moment for realisation to get from Kurt's heart to his head. The innocence in those huge, beautiful eyes, the terror that lingered behind them. _He actually believes this is real._

"Oh wow, did you -" Kurt flexed his hands, approaching him gingerly. "Are you from - a hospital? Are … there doctors, where you came from?"

"I came from Daltasia," Blaine said sincerely, pressing his hand to the crest over his heart. "I need to find a princess."

"You didn't happen to bring Luigi, did you?" Kurt joked, and tried not to kick himself a second later.

"I don't know this Luigi," Blaine replied. "But I can help you find him on my quest, if you like?"

"No, no-" Kurt laughed, waving his hands. "I was joking. I - never mind. Oh god. Um," he ran his hands through his hair, wincing at the sting and the shift of weight as his bag slid up his shoulder. "Look, I can help you - to the hospital. They might know how to get you home?"

"These... _hospitals_ ," Blaine began curiously. "Are they members of your royal court?"

Kurt let a slow breath drag into his aching lungs, lost in frustration as helplessness burned in his throat. "No," he said softly on the exhale. "No they're not."

Blaine sighed, his gaze drifting to the ground. "I suppose I should start walking, then," he said quietly. "I'll surely find my way, there may be a tavern or a meadow I can use to rest for the night. Please forgive me, I… I've taken up too much of your time."

There was a pause as he shuffled forward, and Kurt absently registered the quick-sinking feeling that usually came before he did something incredibly stupid.

"No, no, wait," he held up both hands, pressing them to Blaine's chest as he tried to pass. "Look, you're … injured. And it's late." _Oh god, what are you doing? No. Shut up._ "You can… come home. With me. You can stay for the night, and… start walking tomorrow."

_Kurt Hummel, what the **fuck** are you doing?_

His inner voice was silenced under the swoop of his stomach when Blaine's face lit up in wonder. 

"Your kindness truly knows no end, brave kn- _Kurt_ ," he finished with a smile, the clip on the t of Kurt's name lingering softly on the air. "I will repay you for this some day, I swear it."

"Yeah, yeah," Kurt sighed, rolling his eyes as he turned Blaine around by the shoulders and flinching as the sword clipped his knee. The fabric clinging to Blaine's back was soft under his sore hands, bright red and smooth in the dim light. _Oh god, is he wearing a cape?_

Kurt laughed silently to himself as he lead them down the street towards his apartment. 

"Why do I get the feeling I'm going to regret this?"


	2. Chapter 2

Pushing through his front door, Kurt turned and tugged it closed behind them, dumping his bag unceremoniously on a side table. With both hands on either shoulder, he guided Blaine through to the living room, mindful of the sword that kept bruising his shins.

Blaine's eyes were huge, staring up and all around him in wordless wonder as he took in the bright walls and perfectly coordinated decor. "This - this is where you live?"

"I hope so," Kurt joked lightly, glancing back at him as he passed. "Otherwise this could get very awkward really fast."

Blaine blinked at him innocently.

 _It's already pretty fucking awkward_ , Kurt reminded himself.

"Joking," he said.

Blaine rocked on his feet, tipping up his chin in understanding.

Slipping into the open kitchen, Kurt found a bowl and a clean cloth under the sink and pulled out his first aid kit. 

"There's…" Blaine breathed out shakily in awe. "There is no place like this, in Daltasia."

As he switched off the water, Kurt rolled his eyes. "What, no high rise apartments in Sherwood Forest?" he mocked quietly. "I'm stunned."

"And that magic box that flew us up here?"

"The elevator?" Kurt asked.

" _Elevator_ ," Blaine repeated to himself. "Incredible."

"It's just a lift," Kurt replied, wandering back out. He stopped by the dining space, bowl in hand, and pointed. "Sit."

Blaine followed Kurt's command, eyes still high and searching around the joined rooms even when he untied his cape and unbuckled his sword to put them down. He slid onto the table alongside them, expression lit with fascination and delight.

"Your world is truly amazing," he insisted, smiling brightly. "I'd never imagined I would see another kingdom. What is this place called?"

"New York," Kurt answered without meeting his eye, instead focusing on the antiseptic and water in his bowl. "Hold still, this might sting."

Blaine nodded seriously, bracing his hands either side on the wooden lip of the table.

Kurt's mouth quirked in amusement. _You're like a giant twelve year old with a skinned knee at a birthday party._ Shaking his head, he leaned in, dabbing along the graze on Blaine's hairline.

He didn't notice the silence at first, only when he wet the cloth again and the trickle of water punctuated the room. 

"Do you have any family here?" he asked gently, trying to make conversation.

Blaine's mouth pressed into a thin line. "No. No… family."

"Nobody I can call?"

Blaine blinked, the now familiar confused expression flickering over his features. "I don't think they would hear you from here."

Kurt paused in disbelief, huffing out a laugh and returning to his task.

After a long pause, he wet his lips, and decided to try again.

"So how - exactly - did you get from... _Daltasia_ ," he hadn't meant for it to sound mocking, but he truly couldn't help it, "to New York in the middle of the night?"

After a few more moments of dabbing away dried blood, he realised Blaine hadn't answered, and looked down to check if he was still listening.

Kurt froze.

Blaine was staring at him, breathing very slowly, his eyes huge and framed by incredibly long, dark eyelashes. He was also barely an inch from Kurt's face.

His gaze dropped to the line of Kurt's mouth, and Kurt forgot to draw in air for a moment as his heart sped up painfully in his chest.

Wetting his lips slowly, Blaine trembled around a missing word, breath gusting warm on Kurt's skin. "I -" he managed to say, voice almost cracking on the air.

Kurt's body felt both numb and too hot all at once, and he closed his mouth and eyes sharply at the same time, stepping out of Blaine's personal space. "Sorry. I - I'm almost done."

Blaine was still watching him, eyelids lower now, his expression unreadable. "I've travelled most of my kingdom, but I've never seen anyone like you before," he said gently, his voice a little too raw.

Kurt swallowed to soothe his dry throat, cleaning out the cloth a second time.

Blaine's face fell into a sad smile. "You live here with your wife?"

He almost choked with laughter. "Oh, god no. No - I'm-" He caught Blaine's curious and amused expression, and tried to figure out how to say it without the inevitable discomfort that came after. _Screw him if he has a problem._ "I'm gay."

Blaine grinned, but his brow betrayed his puzzlement. "I'm … glad to hear it."

Kurt blinked at him. As far as reactions went, it certainly wasn't the worst he'd ever had.

"But - you live alone, in this great kingdom? Surely it's lonely up here," Blaine reasoned, eyes sweeping over to the tall windows. "There are castles and even great towers and spires in my land that don't reach this high. Yours is truly an incredible world."

Searching him for a moment, Kurt tried find a sane explanation for the unabashed wonder on his face. _How can someone in the middle of New York City look out that window like they've never seen the skyline before?_

Another, quieter voice piped up in his head: _Maybe he really hasn't._

"I have Rachel," Kurt said suddenly, and clarified after catching Blaine's enquiring glance; "She's my friend. She lives here most of the time, when she's not off at parties and benefits. But for the most part, yes. I guess," he sighed softly, "I'm alone."

Blaine nodded, his feet swinging back and forth, hovering just above the ground. "I expect I would be too, if it weren't for Pav."

"Pav?" Kurt asked absently, dipping his cloth into the bowl again.

"My songbird, and dear friend," Blaine enthusiastically informed him. "He tells many wonderful stories. I am only sad he couldn't come with me."

Kurt let out a quiet laugh. "Songbird? What is he, a minstrel?"

"No, he's a canary," Blaine said plainly.

Turning very slowly, Kurt eyed him. "You-… of course," he laughed, rubbing at his forehead with his free hand. "Of course. You talk to birds."

Blaine blinked at him, stunned. "You don't?"

Kurt didn't know how long he let his mouth hang open, struggling to find the right response, but he finally managed to close it to keep himself from laughing. 

"Not... _often_ , no," he said, brushing a hand through his hair.

He winced in pain at the contact, and held up his palms to inspect the damage.

"You're hurt!" Blaine said suddenly, voice tinted with concern. He quickly peeled off both gloves and captured Kurt's wrists.

Kurt jerked forward with the soft tug, eyes wide as he let Blaine look over his injured palms. Blaine's fingers were softer than he expected, warm and strong as they slid down the backs of his hands and curled gently over the edges, thumbs grazing across his skin.

Blaine glanced up at him quickly, then over to the bowl, and he reached out to take up the cloth. "Hold still."

Stunned into silence, Kurt didn't move as Blaine wiped gently over both palms, clearing gravel and dirt from his skin. He was careful and gentle in a way Kurt didn't expect, and the tiny soothing sweeps of his fingers and thumb along the path of the sting stole the breath out of Kurt's lungs.

"Does it hurt?"

Kurt's brain finally caught up with him long enough to form an answer. "N-not much, I'll be fine."

Blaine settled back, putting the cloth down only to take Kurt's hands gently in his own. "Thank you," he said, eyes bright and sincere. "For saving me."

Lost for a moment in the feeling of two broad, warm hands in his own, Kurt stuttered between thoughts, trying to string words into a sentence.

With a quick nod, he withdrew himself carefully. "It was nothing," he said weakly. "Somebody had to help."

Blaine's eyes drifted closed. "I'm a fool for needing it," he said, his expression turning melancholy.

Kurt's head tilted in curiosity. "Why?"

"I'm the prince. The heir to my father's kingdom, he… expected more of me." Blaine told him, and the disappointment on his face was unmistakable.

"It was three to one. He'd understand," Kurt said.

Blaine's smile was sad. "Unfortunately, my father has passed," he said, adding quickly as an afterthought; "Long live the King."

Kurt's heart hurt at the look in Blaine's eyes. Suddenly Daltasia seemed so much more real, just for the pain there. Even if Kurt couldn't believe in it, _wouldn't_ believe in it, he found he was almost certain that Blaine truly did.

The question was why.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, tilting to catch Blaine's eyes. "I really am. I lost my mother when I was very young."

"Me too," Blaine said quickly, but it was a measure of solidarity in his tone, of gratitude, that set Kurt at ease.

The moment passed, and Blaine seized a long breath before he began again. "My father re-married," he explained a little more brightly, but Kurt could feel he was forcing it. "My step-mother rules as Queen, for now. But soon… it will be me. And so I have to be," his face flashed with a telling spark of his turmoil, "more like my father."

Sympathy curled in Kurt's chest, helpless and heavy on his lungs.

After a moment, the voice of reason resurfaced, and he scolded himself silently. _This man is insane, and you're not helping by humouring him._

He huffed out a silent laugh. "So you've got a step-mother?"

Blaine glanced up at him, surprised. "Yes. Why?"

"Just," Kurt rolled his eyes, his grip on reality taking over again as he gathered the bowl and headed back to the kitchen, "watch out for magic mirrors."

Blaine didn't pick up on his sarcasm. "I will," he said earnestly.

Kurt stopped in the archway of the door on his way back again, watching as Blaine slid off the table and took tentative steps towards the living room. His child-like, enraptured gaze drifted across the room incredibly slowly, searching the bookcases and wall decorations again with awe. 

He was silent as he stared, and held himself tall in a way that few men Kurt knew ever had. There was something certainly regal about his bearing, but Kurt didn't know if that was just the costume creating the illusion.

It didn't add up. Either Blaine truly believed his fantasy was real, in which case he needed help, or he was the best actor Kurt had ever met.

Kurt tried to reason with the voice in his head telling him it was all a trick. 

"You didn't tell me how you got here," he said very carefully, watching Blaine's face for a hint of recognition under the fantasy. "To New York, I mean."

"My step-brother," Blaine answered without looking back. "He's practiced in many magical arts, he promised he'd help me."

"Help you? With what?"

Blaine looked at him this time, his face serene and determined. "Find a princess."

"Ah," Kurt said, nodding. "I see. And why do you need to find a princess, exactly?"

Blaine's face fell, like he was suddenly reminded of something he didn't want to remember.

"My coronation is in twelve days," he said softly. "Sebastian discovered in his studies that I can't be crowned without a betrothed. He came to me right away, I was running out of time."

"Sebastian?"

"My step-brother," Blaine clarified, brightening. "He's very wise and a good friend, without him I would be lost. He risked a great deal, helping me."

"Helping you come here?" Kurt asked, trying to put the story together in his head.

"Yes," Blaine said, reaching out to stroke curiously along the back of a cat statue on the bookcase. "There are no eligible princesses left in Daltasia. I had to look elsewhere, so," he raised his arms in illustration as he glanced back to Kurt, "he sent me here."

"To help you?"

"Yes."

"Sebastian?"

Blaine narrowed his eyes. "Yes."

"He's not a talking crab, by any chance?" Kurt asked, leaning against the wall and folding his arms.

Blaine's face washed over again with innocent confusion. "No, he's… my step-mother's son. He came to live in the castle with us, when my father was married."

Kurt chuckled. "Never mind."

"You are… very strange," Blaine said, his bemused expression giving way to an impossible smile as he watched Kurt laugh. "And… wonderful."

Kurt's laugh faded in his throat, and he quickly looked away, avoiding the unreadable stare that was now fixated on him.

"It's-" he pulled himself away from the wall, "It's been a long day, I should - get some sleep. You can sleep on the couch…" he said, gesturing to it. "For tonight."

Blaine smiled. "I cannot thank you enough for showing me such kindness. Every other person I've encountered here so far has been …" his voice trailed off, and Kurt wondered if he could even say a negative word aloud. If knew any, at all.

He wondered if Blaine had said anything unpleasant about anyone, ever.

"Yeah, well, that's New York for you," Kurt finally answered with a shrug, moving across the room.

"But not you," he breathed. "You're… not like them."

The warmth in Blaine's voice made Kurt's stomach flip.

 _No,_ he thought, _they were smart. I'm the idiot who brought a complete stranger home with him._

"I guess," he said softly, flinching. "Look, I don't- I mean. It's fine for you to stay here. One night. But tomorrow…"

"I will continue my quest," Blaine finished for him, pressing a hand to his heart in a gesture of promise. "I wouldn't dare to impose on you a moment longer, my dear brave knight, you've done so much for me without asking anything in return."

"I'm - not a knight." Kurt laughed breathily, embarrassed and flushing to the tips of his ears. "Let's just. Stick with Kurt."

"Kurt," Blaine repeated again, eyes flashing brightly as he smiled around the word. His lips lingered on the sound, like he enjoyed the way it felt on his tongue.

Kurt drew a shuddering breath. _Stop looking at his mouth._

"Okay," he said, breaking himself out if it. "The - um - I should get a blanket for you for the- the couch."

Blaine watched him move with a grateful, doe-eyed stare.

Shivering lightly, Kurt ducked down to pull a blanket from a box by the bookshelf, trying to focus on anything but Blaine. 

"Take off your boots, and I'll - I should get you something to change into," he stammered, dropping the folded blanket on the armrest.

Blaine bent to unlace and kick off his boots before he flopped down onto the couch, face suddenly child-like and thrilled at the spring in the cushions as he bounced twice and settled back. "This is _wonderful!_ "

"U-huh," Kurt eyed him, baffled. "I'll be right back, just - _stay_ ," he instructed, holding up both hands before he turned and disappeared down the corridor to his room.

When he got through his bedroom door he froze, pressing both hands to his face in a sudden moment of stunned realisation.

 _Okay, so you've got a strange man on your couch,_ he thought to himself. _It's no big deal. There's just a strange man who looks and talks and acts like a fucking Disney prince, and he's currently on your couch. Where he's going to stay. For the night._

He shuffled stiffly to his drawers, pulling them open one after the other without really looking inside.

_It's no big deal. He'll go in the morning. He's harmless._

His eyes finally focused on his open underwear drawer, and he hissed out an annoyed sound, shoving it closed and finding the right drawer for his t-shirts.

_Stop worrying. It's only a delusional stranger with a sharp weapon. No big deal._

Finally finding a pair of loose grey sweatpants and a white t-shirt, he tucked them under his arm, shoving the drawers back in.

He wandered out quickly, striding down the hall to the living room and turning through the archway. "You can use these, they might be a little snug but-" his voice cut off.

Blaine was lying, half on his side and half on his back, strewn across the cushions and soundlessly sleeping. His legs were bent slightly at the knee, resting together below the twist of his hips where his body turned so his shoulders lay flat, head tipped to the side, arm draped over his belly. His face was perfectly serene, breathtaking in the warm light, the angles and curves of his features too flawless to be real.

 _Either I'm dreaming,_ Kurt thought. _Or he just walked right out of a fairytale._

Blaine's eyelashes trembled against his cheeks, long dark lines fanning out over the sweep of olive skin. His soft, pink lips twitched just slightly, betraying him.

Kurt couldn't help the smile that curled the corners of his mouth. _Even Prince Charming dreams._

Before he realised what he was doing, Kurt had settled at the very edge of his armchair, dropping the spare clothes in his lap as he stared. He leaned on his elbow, resting his chin in his palm as his eyes trailed over Blaine's form again.

He took in the bony angles of his too-big toes, the curve of his heel and the ball of his slender ankles, wondering how it was possible that even his disproportionately giant feet seemed endearing. His eyes trailed up over the definition of Blaine's calves and the muscles in his thighs through the black fabric of his pants. The rumpled silver crest on his tunic shimmered in the light, and Kurt eyed it for a moment, making out the lines of two crowns linked together under the silhouettes of flying doves on a shield. 

He kept moving along the same path, up over the rise and fall of Blaine's chest, to the smooth expanse of his throat and the curve of his jaw where he lingered a moment, wondering how it would feel under his fingertips.

With a slight jolt back to reality, he gritted his teeth. _He's a delusional stranger, not a prince,_ he scolded himself. _Don't be stupid._

The little voice, the other voice, came back again to argue. _There is a beautiful, warm and kind man on your couch, who is innocent and rare. And he's going to get broken if you let him go._

Kurt shook himself from his own internal war, dropping the clothes on the armchair as he stood silently.

 _Fairytales aren't real,_ he told himself sternly. _There are no far away kingdoms, no princes, white knights. Nobody's going to come for you. This is real life. Nobody's going to hold your hand._

He was two strides back to his room when he heard it, just that one little voice, in the back of his head.

_He did._

Frozen to the spot, he let his eyes drift closed, seizing a deep breath and burying his face in his hand.

It took him another moment to look back over his shoulder, but when he did, Blaine was still there - just as real as ever. Still dressed in clothes that made no sense, still breathing, still the most beautiful thing Kurt had ever seen in real life.

He moved silently, gathering the blanket from the arm of the couch and letting it drop open before he gently lay it over the sleeping prince, drawing it up to his chest.

Blaine murmured and let out a blissful little breath, lips flashing in a tiny smile just for a moment before they evened out again.

He didn't know why he did it, what even possessed him to, but Kurt reached out and brushed the curls back off of Blaine's forehead sweetly, grazing over warm skin. His lip trembled on a shaky exhale. _Oh god, what am I doing?_

As silently as possible he retreated from the living room in a rush, flicking the light-switch off and gliding down the hall into his empty bedroom. He showered quickly and got changed, slipping into bed and screwing his eyes shut tight against the darkness, telling himself over and over again:

_I do not believe in fairytales._


	3. Chapter 3

The first thing Kurt registered in his half-asleep, half-awake state was the front door clapping shut, the way it always did when Rachel made an entrance.

He was almost mostly conscious when the sound of her voice trickled down the hall, calling his name.

Most of him wanted to ignore it, snuggle back down into the perfect warm cocoon of his bed and go back to sleep. The moment he moved, a flash of pain drew him right back to almost-awake, and he groaned against his pillow. _Right. Sore back, sore shoulders, too long bent over the draft table._

An absent voice in the back of his head wondered grumpily if she'd brought some damn coffee with her, because he didn't really want to face sunday morning without it.

He curled his fists around the pillow and pushed it against his face.

_Wait, why do my hands hurt?_

"You won't believe the night I had!" Her voice was loud and clear this time, coming closer. "Kurt? Are you in the shower? I can hear singing!"

The pipes groaned as the shower shut off.

His eyes flew open.

_Oh crap._

"Kurt?"

He was on his feet and stumbling to the door in a heartbeat, blankets and pillows flying across the room as he scrambled for the handle, gripping the frame and pulling himself through to the hallway. 

When he made it out of his room, he froze. 

She was standing perfectly still, eyes impossibly huge and jaw hanging as she stared through the open bathroom door.

"Rachel," Kurt snapped, but even that didn't draw her attention. He closed the gap between them, grappling for her shoulders. "Rachel, I can explain, he's-"

" _Ohhh_ my," she breathed, still unable to look away from the bathroom. 

"Rachel!" he tried again, and jolted when the loud trilling twitter of birdsong echoing off tile suddenly pierced the air.

Kurt turned around in front of her to look, and felt the blood drain from his face. 

Blaine.

Blaine was damp. And naked.

Naked Blaine was standing in the middle of his bathroom. With only a towel for modesty. 

It hadn't even been drawn around his waist, he was just holding it in front of himself over his stomach and thighs, the cream of the fabric so bright against his smooth, tan skin, supple and shimmering in the morning sunlight with beads of water clinging here and there. The exposed curve of his ass was high and firm, leading up into the muscle of his back and two dimples either side.

Kurt choked silently, unable to blink.

The birds in his bathroom fluttered around Blaine's head and twittered at him incessantly. He watched them with bright and eager eyes as he listened intently and nodded.

"I understand, thank you!" he told them with a smile, pulling the towel around himself at last. "It's always wonderful to meet new friends. Thank you for your welcome!"

The birds chirped at him again, swooping around him in one last circle before they disappeared out the open bathroom window. Tying his towel, Blaine turned around.

"Kurt!" he said, face bright and open in a giant smile. "This room is truly magical. How did you harness the waterfall?" he asked, pointing to the shower.

Kurt stammered, blinking rapidly. "I… I… there's…"

"I made some new friends, they heard my song and came to sing with me!" he enthused. "They told me of New York, and how much there is to see! What an incredible kingdom this is."

Rachel was tugging on Kurt's shirt frantically, letting out tiny squealing noises. He used both hands to slap at her blindly and shush her, keeping her mostly hidden behind him. 

"I - that's… nice, Blaine, I - you should … get dressed and I'll… we can… oh god." 

Kurt dove forward, grabbing the door handle and pulling it shut frantically before he wheeled around and dragged a giddy, squealing Rachel back out to the living room.

" _Where_ did you find him and _where_ can I get one?" she asked through giggling shrieks.

He shushed her again with an aggravated hiss. "It's a long story, okay. He's just - he needed my help."

"Oh, I bet he did," she said, leaning around him to peer down the hall.

"Rachel!" Kurt scolded her. "It's not like that. He was attacked."

"Oh my god!" she cried. "Is - he okay? Are you okay? Kurt, what happened? I told you not to walk home on your own, I told you! Did you use the pepper spray?!"

He sighed, still reeling from the madness of last five minutes. "He's fine, I'm fine. Nobody got seriously hurt. The pepper spray worked wonderfully, thank you. He just… he didn't have a place to stay."

She studied him carefully. "So you two didn't…?"

"What? No!" Kurt said, unable to fight the blush that crept up from his neck to his hairline. "It's not like that, he … he's a little. Unhinged."

"Unhinged?" she asked, and then snorted quietly to herself. "He looked pretty well _hinged_ to me."

"RACHEL!"

"Sorry, sorry." She waved both hands, but the smile she failed to hide betrayed her actual apology.

Kurt heaved a breath, closing his eyes. "He thinks… he honestly believes he's an actual prince. He thinks he comes from a far-away land, and that he has to find a princess, and that he's going to be king."

"Shut. Up!" Rachel stared at him, mouth agape.

"Oh, I wish I was kidding," Kurt said, and pointed to the table. "He has a sword. And a cape."

"Oh my _god_." Rachel pressed both hands to her cheeks. "But wait, no," she turned back, "what if he's a renaissance player? Like, from an art installation or maybe he's performance art. Or he's just dedicated to his character, now, that's dedication - convincing a total stranger to take you in!"

"He's a _lunatic!_ " Kurt hissed.

"Yes, but he's _very_ nice," she countered with a smile.

"He is. Beautiful. And crazy," Kurt conceded. "And I need to get him out of here."

Rachel was beaming at him with a glint in her eye, the way she did when she thought she knew something.

"What?" he snapped.

"You _like_ him," she teased.

"Don't be ridiculous," he said. "You're the one going on about how pretty you think he is!"

"Oho, no," she held up a finger, "I never said pretty. I said _nice_."

He waved a hand dismissively. "I knew what you meant, it's the same thing."

"No it's not," she shot back. "But it's funny how you heard it. Because I just said _nice_ , but you…"

"What?"

"You said _beautiful_ ," Rachel finished, perching a hand on her hip.

Kurt froze, mouth open and poised to argue, but no words would come.

She grinned, jutting out her chin in victory as she smoothed down the lines of her dress.

"Shut up." He glowered at her. "It doesn't matter, look, I need to get him out of here. He needs help, or … a pumpkin carriage or something. Anything. I don't care."

"Princess!"

They both turned at once at the sound of Blaine's voice. 

He was standing in the arch of the door, his flawless princely self once again in blue and silver, hair perfectly tamed and eyes bright with wonder.

"You're here!" he exclaimed.

Rachel blinked. "Me?"

"Here I've barely begun my search and I've already found you," Blaine gushed, gliding smoothly towards them.

"Oh _god_ ," Kurt groaned with a roll of his eyes, moving away.

With a bright, surprised smile, Rachel let Blaine take both her hands and lift them up in his own as he began,   
_"I've been searching so long,  
for a love and a song,  
to sing in a sweet heart's duet,"_

Kurt covered his face with his hand. "Oh god, is he singing?"

"Uhuh," she said through clenched teeth.

_"When two hearts are one,  
and all songs are sung,  
in the very first moment we met,"_

"Ohhh-kay," Rachel hushed him gently, closing her hand over his mouth. "That's very, very sweet, and you have a beautiful voice. But let's just…" She lead him over to the couch. "Let's just not with the singing for now, okay?"

He nodded, smiling as he sat beside her. "Of course, fair princess, what ever you wish."

"I'm going to go…" Kurt gestured vaguely towards the kitchen, his voice dropping into a barely audible mumble. "Shoot myself."

Rachel gave him a sympathetic wince as he left, and returned her attention to Blaine. "Now, what's your name?"

"My dearest princess, I am Prince Blaine, of the Sovereign Kingdom of Daltasia," he explained seriously, pressing his hand to his heart. "I seek a princess to join me on the throne."

"Uhuh, okay," she shifted slightly, "and which company do you work with?"

He blinked at her. "I'm sorry?"

"Theatre company? Renaissance program?" she asked carefully, searching his face. "Where did you come from?"

"I am from Daltasia," he reiterated, enunciating carefully.

"I'm from Narnia, myself," Kurt added dryly from the kitchen, and Rachel forced down a laugh.

Blaine smiled at the sound of Kurt's voice, leaning up to see if he could spot him, and Rachel watched him carefully as he craned his neck in curiosity.

"I don't know of this Narnia, where is it? Is it a grand kingdom, like this one?"

Rachel caught the exasperated huff from Kurt, and decided on action.

"Prince Blaine?"

"Yes, princess?" he returned his attention to her immediately.

"Why don't you come with me, for a walk in the park," she said, lifting herself to her feet and guiding him to follow. "Get you out of the apartment for awhile, some fresh air, sunshine. Kurt needs some time to wake up properly, and you can tell me about Daltasia."

"Of course, princess! Your heart's desire is my own," he said genuinely.

She pressed her mouth together in a thin line, amusement shining in her eyes.

"Kurt!" she shouted. "We're going for a walk in the park, so you can wake up in peace."

"But-"

"Coffee's on the table," she called back, dress swaying around her knees as she swept out the door and pulled Blaine along with her.

By the time Kurt reached the living room, the door was slipping shut, and the shuffle of their feet gave way to silence. He blinked numbly at the empty space, and glanced over to the table where two coffees sat in a little cardboard holder alongside the folded mass of Blaine's cape, set neatly atop his gloves and sword.

"But…" 

He tried to process exactly what had just happened.

Blaine was going to the park with Rachel. For a walk. With _Rachel_. Because he thought Rachel was his princess.

Kurt tried to fight the nausea that rose in him when he remembered Blaine's face in that hallway the moment he'd seen her.

Rachel was his princess. Of course she was. It's not like fairytale princes knew any better than that. See a beautiful girl, fall in love. Isn't that how it worked?

He scoffed, scooping up his coffee and taking a sip. It didn't mean anything. Rachel wasn't a princess. She'd set him straight, she'd explain it all. She always had her own unique way of making even the craziest things make sense.

Still, his stomach churned. _Why did it have to be Rachel?_

He ran his fingers over the fabric of the cape, smoothing out the lines as his thoughts wandered over warm hands in his and huge hazel eyes. The cape was soft and silky to the touch, strange but familiar at the same time. 

He wiped the dopey smile off his face the moment he realised it was there, mentally kicking himself. _What is wrong with you?_

The apartment was too quiet all morning, and he felt the silence weighing heavy all around him, even through his shower and morning routine. He found himself stopping too often and staring into space as his mind wandered back over the previous evening, over every lingering stare and slow breath, the flashes of light in those huge, beautiful eyes.

_He's looking for a princess. You're making this up in your head._

Kurt kept a spotless apartment even at the very worst of times, but he'd still cleaned it again twice before they got back.

When the door clicked and slid open he scrambled in his seat, finding the nearest book and opening it to a random page, doing his best to look inconspicuous and not at all like he'd been sitting there staring at the door for the last two hours.

"We're home!" Rachel called cheerily, gliding through the door and letting Blaine close it behind her as she slipped off her coat. "Kurt?"

"Hmm?" he looked up, managing his best 'interrupted' expression.

She smirked at him, eyes glittering as she looked at the book, and back up. "We had a lovely time in the park, didn't we Blaine?"

"It was amazing. Kurt, the park is a wondrous place," he exclaimed, hanging Rachel's coat for her.

"I'm sure it is," Kurt drawled.

"What have you been doing all day?" Rachel asked, a teasing note to her voice.

"I've been busy," Kurt said quickly. "Designs. Work calls. Reading."

"Your book is upside-down," she whispered, and Kurt dropped it like it was on fire, ignoring the peal of giggles as she pressed her hand to her face.

"Kurt, the city is amazing, I learned so much," Blaine gushed, dropping on to the couch beside him. "Did you know they have food in glass boxes that you can buy and eat? Twisted bread and sweet things I've never dreamed of, and people dressed as monsters and music _everywhere_ , it - it was," he let out a shaky breath, overwhelmed. "It was magical."

Kurt couldn't help the smile on his face as he watched Blaine speak, stunned and a little awed at the passion and excitement in his voice. 

"I know," he said softly. "It's a wonderful city. Sometimes."

Rachel inclined her head in a nod of agreement, and Kurt glanced at her when he caught the movement. A cold rush of envy swept through his veins again at the little adoring look she was giving Blaine.

"So you and your…" Kurt's eyes flicked down and up to Rachel again, "princess are going back to Fantasia?"

"Daltasia," Blaine corrected him kindly.

"Right."

"And the Lady Rachel has kindly explained to me that she is not a princess," Blaine said, face lined with disappointment. "I fear it was my mistake, I had… I had hoped it would be that easy."

"It's rarely easy, but it was sweet of you to think of me as a princess," Rachel said with a smile, and Blaine graced her with one in return.

"So you're not…" Kurt's voice trailed off.

"No," Rachel said, leaning in and patting his knee. "You seem to forget, I'm… spoken for."

"Again, my sincerest apologies for my mistake," Blaine insisted, leaning towards her. "If I had known-"

"It's fine," she said, holding up a hand. "But for now I should go, I have a dinner this evening and a show before that."

Kurt watched her glide away effortlessly, scooping up a different coat and changing over her bag.

"Kurt," Blaine said suddenly, and Kurt turned in his seat to find him far closer than he expected.

"Y-yes?"

"I fear I may have imposed on you far too much already, but I was wondering if you could help. I need… I don't know where to start looking."

"For…?"

"For a princess," Blaine said softly, his eyes almost cartoonish in size. He shook his head for a moment. "I don't seem to know them by sight alone, else I wouldn't have made such a mistake today."

"Why _did_ you think Rachel was a princess?" Kurt asked quickly, shifting so they weren't quite so close together.

"See you tomorrow, boys! Have fun!" Rachel called as she swept out the door a second time.

Kurt ignored her, keeping his eyes on Blaine.

The prince watched her go, and sighed. "I don't see many young women around Daltasia, I know very little about them. I'm certain I am…" he let his eyes flicker down, like he was trying to figure out the right words, " _supposed_ to know? Supposed to feel the surge in my chest of love or affection for the right girl. The right princess. But I haven't felt it yet."

Kurt paused, eyeing him carefully before he drew a very deliberate breath. "You felt it for Rachel?"

His face fell. "I …"

Kurt felt his stomach churn again.

"I don't think so, no."

Staring, Kurt tried to dim the shrill cry of victory in the back of his head.

"I thought - she seemed like a beautiful lady, but I didn't feel…" he wet his lips, trying to work through it in his head. "I thought if I did what I was supposed to do, if I … courted her like I was supposed to, that it would happen. That's how it works, isn't it?" he asked imploringly, eyes desperate and confused.

Kurt smiled weakly. "Not really."

"I have so much to learn," Blaine lamented quietly. "I feel like a fool for kissing her."

Kurt froze.

Something in chest twisted grotesquely, a strange awkward flutter that left him raw. "You- did what?"

Blaine nodded guiltily. "I thought that was what I was supposed to do. You find the princess. You share true love's kiss. It… wasn't what I expected."

"What did you expect?" Kurt asked, trying to curb the irritation in his voice and failing.

"For my heart to soar," he breathed, eyes unfocused and mouth curling into a dreamy smile. "My pulse to race, my head to spin, I expected… love."

Kurt rolled his eyes, pulling himself up from the couch and collecting his dropped book to rest it on a lamp table. "It's just a fairytale."

Blaine watched him move, nodding. "My mother told me many fairy stories when I was a child, they all say the same thing. The prince, the princess, the magic of true love. Marriage. Happily ever after."

"They're just stories," Kurt sighed. "It's more complicated than that."

Blaine's brow fell into puzzlement. "Complicated?"

"Yes," Kurt insisted. "You can't just - see somebody and know. Love at first sight, it doesn't happen. There is no happily ever after."

The look on Blaine's face was dark, and entirely new. He spoke very slowly. "Of course there is."

"No," Kurt said, leaning in. "There isn't."

Blaine wet his lips, eyes low. "Why are you saying this?"

"Because I'm frustrated," Kurt almost shouted, throwing his arms up.

"W-what?"

"Don't you ever get frustrated?" Kurt asked.

"F- frustrated?" Blaine tried the word on his tongue.

"Angry. Fed up." Kurt clarified. " _Frustrated_."

Blaine considered for a moment. "I'm familiar with the words but-"

"But of course you don't," Kurt sighed in exasperation, and covered his face with his hands. "Because everything for you is sunshine and bird song and true love happily ever after."

Blaine smiled softly. "What's wrong with that?"

"What's…?" Kurt gaped at him. "It's not real, Blaine. It's a fantasy."

He flinched. "Kurt, please, why are you _saying_ that? Of course it's real."

"No," Kurt shook his head. "It's not. Not here."

With a look of incomparable hurt, Blaine curled in on himself, folding his arms tight across his chest. "Then… perhaps it's best I find my way back to Daltasia."

Kurt let out a soft, humourless laugh, rubbing his eyes.

Blaine seemed to find some new resolve at that, and straightened. He moved from the couch, sweeping smoothly over to the table and gathering his things, slowly putting them on one by one. 

As he watched, Kurt couldn't fight the rising heat in his throat, flashing in warning. _Stop him._

When Blaine turned, he lifted his chin, hand diving to hold the hilt of his sword. "I am a man of my word, and a man of honour. I promised I would only impose on you one night, and I meant it. I will go."

Kurt eyed him for a moment, unsure. "That's probably for the best."

With a curt nod, Blaine turned and moved to the doorway, pulling it open and stopping halfway through to look back. "Kurt."

He looked up to catch the prince's eye.

"Thank you, for everything you've done. I would have been lost without you here," he said, and smiled just as sweetly as the first time Kurt saw him. His eyes were bright and soft as he spoke reverently. "I wish you… _every_ happiness."

Kurt paused, wordless and cold in the empty space as the door slipped closed.

"Blaine," he called softly.

There was no answer.

 _Go after him_ , his heart cried.

Kurt swallowed against the lump in his throat, the war caught somewhere between his head and his chest leaving him numb and glued to the spot.

He drew a quick breath, closing his eyes, and letting himself say it out loud: "I do not believe in fairytales."


	4. Chapter 4

Kurt barely slept that night.

By seven he was pacing the hallway, half-dressed and wearing only one shoe after the last time he'd decided it was a bad idea to go running around New York in the middle of the night.

_He's a grown man. He got here by himself, he'll be fine._

His cell went off at eight, trilling quietly from his room. He ran for it, hoping by some miracle that Blaine's talking birds at least had the courtesy to teach him how to use a phone.

He laughed at himself, at the sheer ridiculousness of his train of thought, mostly to keep from crying. 

"Hello?"

"Kurt!" Rachel called down the line. "Just letting you know I won't be home tonight."

"Oh," Kurt said, disappointment clear and even in his tone. He slumped on the edge of his bed.

"Is everything okay? How's Blaine?"

"He's…" Kurt's voice cracked, and he hunched over, rubbing his forehead. "He's gone."

"What?"

"I let him go," Kurt said softly. "He was only staying one night, he has a princess to find, remember?"

"Wait," Rachel's voice turned hard. "You let him go? In the middle of New York? At night?"

 _"He did what?"_ a familiar voice came down the line, tinny and soft in the background, and Kurt froze.

"Wait, was that-?"

"Kurt," Rachel cut him off, "please, _please_ tell me you know where he is?"

Kurt swallowed roughly.

"Oh god," she said. "Kurt, you have to find him, okay? He could get hurt."

"He's a grown man," Kurt snapped. "He has a _sword_ , for crying out loud. He can take care of himself."

"Kurt, he's not ready, he's not used to it. We talked all day. He told me so much, I truly-"

"Don't tell me you believe him," Kurt cut her off.

Her breath came down the line in a tired huff. "I do."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Rachel, he thinks he's a _prince_."

"So what if he's not?" she asked. "He's a prince, he's not a prince, does it matter?"

"It- it-"

"Kurt," she said firmly. "Forget about the costume. Forget about the sword and the singing and the birds you saw flying around him this morning. Forget all of that. The rest is Blaine. You tell me right now he's not worth finding."

Kurt's breath pulled in on a tiny gasp.

_He's out there alone._

"I'm going," he said softly, flicking his phone off and snatching up his coat.

He was out on the street by eight fifteen, wandering and occasionally calling his name. He checked the park, pushed through the late crowds and crossed alleys, always searching. Every flash of blue or silver made his stomach flip. But it was never Blaine.

Come one a.m. he was back in bed, tossing and turning and thumping his pillow in frustration.

He called his office at six to take the day off.

Ten minutes later he was out on the street again, coffee in hand, ready to walk half the city if he had to. The voice in his head kept repeating the same barrage of questions; _Why didn't you go after him? What if he's hurt? What if he's lost, and scared?_

He walked a little faster, for awhile.

As he went, he found himself realising just how much he missed New York. So much of it had been swept away in regularity - the every day, the mundane ritual of sleep and work and life. He wandered the streets slowly, carefully, sure to stop and look everywhere this time, blessed with the comforting assistance of daylight.

The city spread out before him, loud and busy and full of life. Real life. And for the first time in a long time, Kurt wished for just the tiniest hint of a fairytale.

By the late afternoon he'd come back around to the park, walking along pathways a third time. He knew Blaine loved the park, it made sense that he'd come here. _Unless he just picked a direction and started walking…_

He sat down on a bench in the shade briefly, skimming over the open space, mouth dry and legs sore from the day spent wandering the streets. His heart ached, and he tried to quell the panic that kept rising in his throat whenever he thought for too long.

The shriek from behind him pulled him out of his misery, and he turned long enough to see a little boy trip and fall face-down in the grass. The two other boys right behind him were laughing.

After a moment he realised the boy wasn't tripped - he was pushed.

Kurt was on his feet and two strides over to them when the little boy pulled himself up off the ground and shouted in a high-pitched voice, thumping tiny fists against his attackers. The other boys pushed him down again, still mocking and jeering until they were suddenly swept into the air, lifted by their shirts. 

Kurt stopped, quickly slipping into the shadow of a nearby tree and staring. 

_Blaine._

"I think you should apologise to this young maiden," Blaine instructed firmly, his tone light and smooth. If he felt any strain at holding two children in the air like rag-dolls, he certainly didn't show it.

Kurt blinked, and looked to the small figure on the ground. It took him a moment to realise she was, in fact, a little girl - dressed in boy's clothes with short-cropped hair. She stared up at Blaine with huge eyes, surprise and shock on her face.

The boys squirmed in his grip, cursing and kicking, but he didn't put them down.

"I'll not release you until you apologise," he said calmly.

"Sorry!"

"Fine, sorry!" they whined.

Blaine let them go with a nudge, and called after them as they scampered away. "Try not to act so dishonourably in future, you bring shame on your families!"

The little girl was still gaping at him as he crouched down.

"Are you alright, small princess?"

She hiccupped softly in the last remnants of her angry tears. "Y-yes."

He smiled sweetly, lowering himself to sit across from her. "Don't worry about them, they'll feel disgrace for what they've done. And often that is punishment enough."

"They c-called me a b-boy," she said sadly. "But like it was bad."

"I don't see what's wrong with being a boy," Blaine said, considering carefully. "I don't see what's wrong with being a girl, either."

"I like being a b-boy, you get to do more things," she informed him seriously.

"Really?" he asked, surprised. "In Daltasia everybody gets to do the same things, if they truly want to."

She blinked at him.

"I come from there," he told her with a nod. "I'm the prince of Daltasia. It's a beautiful kingdom, very far away."

"But only boys get to be princes," she said, "and kings."

"True," Blaine agreed. "But girls can be princesses, and queens."

"It's d-different," she argued. "Girls have to wear dresses and boys get to do the important stuff."

He tilted his head. "Not in Daltasia. If it weren't for the Dual Queens, we wouldn't have our kingdom."

Her tiny brow pinched in confusion. "What's a Dual Queen?"

With a proud smile he leaned back, holding the edges of his tunic to show her the crest. Kurt watched from the shadow of his tree, listening intently.

"A very long time ago, there were two sides of our world, the Blue of the east, and the Red of the west. The kings of both sides were at war, until one day they were both slain in their folly and greed to each possess what the other owned," he explained, and both Kurt and the small girl stared on, captivated.

"Their widowed queens, both braver and smarter, met in secret and forged an alliance to bring their two kingdoms together in peace. And so, became Daltasia," he pointed to the two linked crowns on his tunic, "under the rule of the Dual Queens; one of Red, for passion and love and spirit, and one of Blue, for law and logic and reason. Together they ruled for a very long time, under the banner of peace."

"Wow," the little girl breathed.

"You got that right," Kurt murmured to himself, realising all at once that he could probably listen to Blaine tell stories all day.

"What happened to them?" she asked.

"They passed on their line," Blaine said, "and over the years the rule returned to kings. But legend has it one day, the Dual Queens will return, and everlasting peace will return with them."

"I could be a queen," the little girl said.

"Or," Blaine offered, "you could be a king. Nobody should tell you which one to be. But which ever you are, remember that you can do anything."

She smiled at him, wiping her face. "Thank you, Prince-"

"Blaine," Kurt finished for her, finally approaching them. "His name is Blaine."

"Kurt!" Blaine's entire face lit up in delight. He swept to his feet, grinning broadly as he closed the gap between them and seized him in a tight hug.

"Oh!" Kurt laughed, and after a moment let his head drop to the curve of Blaine's neck, resting his arms over both shoulders.

It felt good. Too good - like at once everything in the world would be alright as long as he could make sure Blaine was real, and solid under his fingertips.

Blaine pulled away first, his hands lingering at Kurt's waist. "I missed you!" he said brightly. "This city is vast, and I've made many new friends, but none quite like you."

"Oh," Kurt said, breathless and trying to keep his balance. "I'm- I'm sorry, about yesterday. I didn't mean to - I'm just glad you're alright."

"Of course I'm alright," Blaine said with a light, reassuring squeeze at Kurt's hips.

He turned to the little girl, now on her feet and staring at them.

"I sadly must bid you goodbye," he said, bowing slightly before he added; "your majesty."

She grinned back at him, shoving her fists shyly into her pockets before she nodded, waved, and ran away giggling.

"That was a very sweet story," Kurt said with a smile.

Blaine turned to him, beaming. "It's the greatest story of Daltasia, all children are told. It's also my favourite."

"I can tell," Kurt said, gaze trailing over Blaine's face. On a hesitant breath, he finally managed to say; "I missed you too."

Blaine's watched him, eyes warm and bright in the fast-fading afternoon sun, his expression nothing short of adoring.

Kurt seized another breath, realising they were essentially just standing still and staring at each other. "Walk with me?" he asked, tilting his head towards the path.

With a nod, Blaine followed, and they wandered down the park at an easy pace. 

"I'm - so sorry, Blaine," Kurt began, head slightly bowed. "About last night. I didn't mean to say those things."

"You did," Blaine said simply, and smiled at Kurt's stunned look. "It's alright. The squirrels were kind, they lead me to a safe place to rest. I spent the evening in the company of a delightful old crone named Mag, she lives at the edge of the park." He gestured with a wave of his hand. "She said not everybody here believes in love. As much as it hurts my heart to know that you don't, I believe I understand, now."

"Oh?" Kurt asked, suddenly feeling lightheaded.

"You haven't found your princess, either," Blaine said sympathetically. "I can appreciate how hard it is to keep believing."

Kurt blinked, confused. "Blaine…" He tried to understand why it hadn't sunk in the first time. _I already told him._

It only took him a moment, but he started laughing to himself.

Blaine's puzzled expression set him off again, just as he'd calmed down.

"What is it?" Blaine asked, face lit with delight at Kurt's laughter.

"Nothing," Kurt said, waving his hand. "It's… ohhh, it's nothing. It doesn't matter."

"Regardless, you did me no wrong last night," Blaine went on. "Please don't feel that you have."

Kurt nodded, finally calming down from his giggles. "Thank you," he said softly. "I don't think that I can do much, but I'd like to help."

Blaine's brow lifted.

"To find your princess," Kurt clarified. "You can stay… with me. If you want to."

Kurt didn't know how it was possible for Blaine to grin harder than he was already, but somehow, he managed it. 

"Oh, Kurt, thank you!" Blaine gathered him in another ecstatic hug, this time resting his head against Kurt's chest, leaving Kurt's arms free.

He stumbled slightly with the impact, bewildered and blinking as his hand came to rest on Blaine's shoulder, the other in his hair. 

"You're welcome," he said softly, overwhelmed.

Blaine drew back too quickly. "One day, I will show you Daltasia," he insisted, voice thick with emotion. "One day I will repay you for your kindness."

"Just give me the name of your dry-cleaner," Kurt said lightly. "If you can spend the night in central park and somehow still smell like a meadow, he must be a miracle worker."

Blaine smiled at him knowingly. "You're making a joke."

"And you're catching on," Kurt answered with a warm smile.

They wandered through the park, stopping for hot-dogs for dinner and to rest on a bench as Blaine talked about his adventures the night before. The light had faded to grey slowly over the afternoon, and dark clouds were threatening to crack the sky open once they'd reached the edge of the park.

"We should get back before it rains," he said, and just as he did a peal of thunder shook the air.

"Oh my," Blaine said, stunned and staring upward. "What was that?"

"I take it there are no storms in Daltasia?"

"I've never seen one," Blaine said, voice tinted with worry. "I've heard they can be terrible things."

"Not really." Kurt shrugged. "Just rain and thunder, sometimes lightning. Nothing to be afraid of."

The low boom rolled across the sky again, and Blaine jumped, huddling close to Kurt's side.

He couldn't help his laughter at the panicky look on Blaine's face. "It's alright, you won't get hurt."

The sky split open above them, and the rain came in a heavy torrent. Cursing, Kurt grappled for Blaine's hand, tugging him along towards the nearest cab rank.

Blaine was stumbling behind him, and it took a moment for Kurt to realise he was laughing.

"Why are you laughing?" Kurt shouted over the pounding hiss of the rain.

"It's raining!" Blaine shouted back, his face open and elated, peering up at the sky. "It's wonderful!"

"You think everything is wonderful!" Kurt cried out, laughing.

"Everything _is_ wonderful!" Blaine shouted. "Especially with you."

Kurt stopped and they bumped into each other, slipping on the mud. 

Speechless, he held tight to Blaine's shoulders, keeping them both from falling over. There were raindrops clinging to Blaine's eyelashes, and the curls of his hair had flattened against his forehead, glistening in the pale light. Kurt drew an unsteady breath, gladly drowning in the rush of water and the pounding of his heartbeat in his own ears.

Blaine's breath was hot across his lips as they smiled at each other, sliding and jerking intermittently on the unstable ground. "You're soaked," Blaine said, rubbing at Kurt's shoulder.

Kurt's brow lifted in surprise and he finally realised that Blaine had spoken. "Oh. Ye- yeah. We should… get back."

The cab rank was empty, but they were already wet through and through. They tumbled down the street in an awkward run, still clinging tight to each other's shoulders and scrambling across the sidewalk as they raced back to Kurt's apartment.

They were both breathless and dizzy from laughing and running by the time they made it through the door, and Kurt let it slip closed behind him. 

Blaine cast a fond glance around the apartment before he turned, and tugged at his tunic to peel it away from his skin.

"I can get you something else to wear, while it dries," Kurt offered, and realised that Blaine was shivering lightly. "Have a shower, you're freezing."

Blaine nodded once and turned for the bathroom, teeth chattering. He jumped a few steps in when another boom of thunder shook the room.

Kurt chuckled. "It's alright, I promise."

With a worried glance over his shoulder, Blaine wandered off to the bathroom in small, squelching steps. When he spotted them, Kurt scooped up the clothes he'd stacked neatly on the blanket box, left unused from Blaine's first night.

"Here," he said, catching up. "Take these."

Blaine nodded rapidly as he took the bundle, and Kurt tried to fight the snort of laughter that rose up when he realised that Blaine looked much like a drowned muppet.

"Oh-kay, shower's there." Kurt guided him down the rest of the hallway. "Warm up."

When the door slipped shut, Kurt huffed out a relieved sigh. Blaine was alright. Freezing, wet, and still as blindly joyful as ever. But he was alright. 

He squirmed uncomfortably in his own saturated clothes as he headed for his room, suddenly grateful for his ensuite and the balanced water pressure in his apartment. The shower was blissfully warm on his skin, but he didn't linger long, slipping out and drying himself quickly before he pulled on comfortable clothes for the night.

Padding out to the living room again, he gathered the latest pile of sketches from the edge of his coffee table, flopping onto the couch and pushing his glasses over his nose to browse through them. He knew taking the day off was a bad idea, and he'd surely pay for it by the end of the week, but it was well worth it for the fact that Blaine was home.

He gasped softly, stiffening in his seat.

_Home?_

His thoughts were interrupted with the soft sound of bare feet on wood floors as Blaine emerged through the archway. "This weave is incredible, your spinning wheels must be enchanted."

Kurt's jaw fell as he stared openly, barely blinking. 

Blaine was smaller without the cape and tunic, but his shoulders were still broad, tan and perfectly smooth, swelling in firm lines of muscle out either side of the singlet shirt. His biceps were stunningly defined, and his arms tapered in a way that made his hands look as impossibly large as they'd felt in Kurt's own just a few nights before.

His waist was so much smaller than Kurt had imagined, his hips narrow and thighs firm, the muscle obscured by the weight of the sweatpants that fell down well past his feet and covered them. If Kurt hadn't been lost for words and for breath, he might have snorted at how adorable it was; the pants covering Blaine's feet like a small child in too-big pyjamas.

Blaine was staring back at him, gaze fond and light, waiting but not embarrassed in the slightest at Kurt's ogling stare.

There was something about Blaine in normal clothes that made Kurt's stomach do somersaults, flipping impossibly somewhere up near his throat. 

"I- I-"

"What are those?" Blaine asked curiously, pointing to Kurt's face.

"What?" Kurt asked, eyes still huge and staring.

"On your face," Blaine said softly, drifting in small steps over to the couch and sinking down beside him.

Kurt felt suddenly very self-conscious, sitting around in an unflattering t-shirt and sweat pants, wearing his stupid work glasses. _Stupid my ass, these are Dolce,_ a sharp voice reminded him.

"Oh," he breathed. "Glasses. They're glasses."

"What do they do?" Blaine leaned in very close, so close Kurt was dizzy in the wake of the strong, sweet smell of soap, and something warm and masculine underneath. 

"They- I-" Kurt swallowed, focusing and finding his words. "They help me see. Up close."

Blaine's face fell. "You can't see up close without them? You - you can't see me?"

"No, no." Kurt laughed softly. "I can see you. I can see, but - I can't read very well, without them."

"Oh," Blaine rocked back on his thighs, smiling. "I can't imagine that. I love to read."

"You do?" Kurt's brow lifted in surprise.

Blaine nodded. "I don't get much chance to, back home. Too many trolls to slay, peasants to help. There's a lot to being a prince."

"Apparently," Kurt said, amused.

"May I?" Blaine asked, but he was already reaching out, and the warmth of his fingers on the sides of Kurt's face made him gasp.

Blaine pulled off his glasses carefully, and lifted them to look through.

"Here," Kurt said, smiling and twisting to drop his sketches on the side table. He took the glasses from Blaine, turning them and sliding them over his face.

Blaine blinked rapidly, trying to focus his eyes, smiling and glancing around the room. "This is very strange," he said.

Kurt couldn't help his grin. "They look good on you."

Blaine smiled proudly, adjusting them on his face. "It's a shame I can't see in them."

"No, it's really not," Kurt said, reaching up to take them back and drop them on the side-table with his papers.

Blaine blinked and swayed at the sudden change in his vision, and Kurt braced him gently with soft laugh. "Whoa, steady," he said, hands darting up to Blaine's face before he realised what he was doing. 

He froze still, stunned and unable to move with his fingers grazing over Blaine's jawline. Blaine's eyelashes fluttered for a moment before he settled, watching Kurt with fascinated eyes, lips parting gently to breathe.

Kurt knew he was moving, he had the strangest sense of floating, being drawn forward by some invisible force. Blaine's hands lifted up and covered over his own, holding them soft to his face, curling around the edges of his palms.

He could taste Blaine's breath on his tongue, and he revelled in the warmth of it rushing over his lips. Blaine's hands let go, ghosting over his own flushed cheeks and cupping his face gently, thumb stroking feather-light over his cheekbone. 

When Blaine's gaze fell to his mouth, Kurt's heart lodged in his throat, and stopped completely at the barest brush of lips on his own as his eyes drifted closed. 

Thunder clapped, shaking the walls and jolting them both in a violent flurry of limbs as they almost fell off the couch.

Kurt let out a surprised, awkward laugh, gripping Blaine's shoulders and helping him sit upright. 

"It's just… thunder," he said, voice higher than ever as he shifted in his seat. "I should. I have some things to work on, but then I should get to bed. I haven't slept much. We can-"

"Kurt-" Blaine's voice was urgent, his face drawn in confusion.

"No, it's alright," Kurt said quickly. "I can afford to take tomorrow off, so we can - start looking," he patted Blaine's knee, drawing himself up off the couch, "for your princess."

"Oh," Blaine said softly.

"I should get some work done tonight." He shifted and gathered his sketches and glasses from the lamp table as he spoke. "But you should - feel free to - read anything or watch anything," he gestured to the bookshelves, "and tomorrow we can keep searching." 

"Good night, Kurt," Blaine said eagerly as Kurt shuffled away.

"Good night," he answered without looking back.

Blaine watched him disappear, pinned to the couch by the invisible weight in his chest, his breath still trapped in his lungs. He let his mouth fall open again, struggling around a thought that almost became a word, eyelashes fluttering in shock and the sudden, acute awareness, flaring deep inside.

He pressed a hand to his stomach, and let his eyes fall closed as he let out a shaky, long-held breath.

_"Oh my."_


	5. Chapter 5

The moment he reached his room, Kurt let the door swing shut behind him and rocked back, resting on it. His breath was harsh, and too loud against the quiet.

_Oh god, what am I doing?_

His stomach flipped again, his head swimming in the remnants of his panicky flight from the living room. This was not good.

_He almost… No, I almost…_

Somewhere between the second and third internal argument about who tried to kiss who, his phone went off. 

He dove across the bed quickly to retrieve it. "Hello?"

"Well?"

He slumped, relaxing on the mattress. "Rachel. It's fine, I found him."

"Oh thank you, thank you, thank you," she breathed. "Is he alright?"

"He was fine, he wasn't hurt. He can take care of himself," Kurt answered in his best I-told-you-so tone of voice.

"Fine, fine. You were right. But don't tell me you don't feel better that he's home."

"He's not _home_ , Rachel. He's just staying here while we try to find," Kurt sighed, pressing his fingers to the bridge of his nose, "his _princess_ , or something."

"So you're letting him stay? Oh, Kurt!"

"Shhh," he hissed. "Calm down. It's not a big deal."

"It _is_ a big deal," she replied. "Look, I'll be home in the morning. I can take him out, get him some lovely new clothes, and you know I can help. Who better to find royalty in New York city than," she seized a dramatic breath, mocking herself, "the majestic tour de force that is Rachel Berry."

Kurt huffed a quiet laugh into his phone, dropping his forehead onto the bed with a thump and letting his head bounce slightly. "Oh god, this is insane. I keep thinking this isn't happening. But it is. He's out there, on my couch."

"The couch?" she asked suddenly. "Why didn't you put him in the guest?"

"It's full of boxes," Kurt said. "I'll clean it up in the morning."

"It was bound to happen, sooner or later," she said.

"What? A real life disney prince showing up in New York? That was _bound_ to happen?"

"Kurt, this is New York. _Everything_ happens here. Have you not seen the movies?" Her voice was still sweet and teasing, and he couldn't help but smile.

"Alright, good night," he said. "I'll see you tomorrow. Bring coffee."

"Love you," she insisted loudly, and he flicked the _end_ button with another roll of his eyes.

Flopping onto his back, he dropped his phone on the side table and stared up at the ceiling. For a long time he tried very hard to think about nothing at all, but he kept coming back to the same place, over and over.

Blaine.

Fractures of memory flooded back to him in waves; warm breath on his lips, strong hands cradling his face, the tiny brush of a mouth against his own. He screwed his eyes shut tight, and let out a soft whine.

_I have no idea what I'm doing._

When he woke, he realised he had absolutely no memory of getting under the covers, or turning off the lights. Somewhere between his shower and his morning skincare routine, pieces of the last day began to drift back in; the little girl, hot dogs in the park, racing through the rain, his conversation with Rachel.

He spent a solid two minutes staring into his mirror, trying to determine if the almost-kiss had been a dream before he shook it off, and decided to focus on getting things done. He'd fallen asleep far too early, and the light outside was barely dawn-grey, creeping over the skyline. He had time.

The guest room wasn't quite the disaster he expected. Half of Rachel's boxes had been cleared away already, and the rest was just an old array of designs he'd given up on over the years, left strewn about in rainbow colours across the old bedspread and over the vanity. He tucked them into the wardrobe one by one, trying not to laugh aloud at some of his early misadventures.

He changed the bed covers and packed away the last remnants of the early years of his career, clearing away the gathered dust and opening the windows to let in fresh air.

Kurt had always loved the room itself. It was bright and open, and sunshine fell across the floor in waves, giving it the look of a loft in the middle of a high rise apartment. Something about it felt very natural, warm and homey. The only reason he'd taken his room was the sheer size difference.

Something told him Blaine would probably find it just as wonderful as he found… well, everything else.

He padded quietly back out to the living room, intent on making some breakfast (and already craving the cafe coffee that was probably en route) when he noticed the couch was bare.

He blinked.

"Blaine?"

There was no answer. 

He peered across the room in confusion, taking a moment to eye over the discarded blanket on the floor, and the paperback sitting on a side table. He smiled at Blaine's choice of _Stardust._

Backing up, he turned and wandered down the hall, listening carefully for the sound of the shower.

"Blaine?" he called again, a hint of worry in his tone.

" _Kurt._ " The voice coming from the bathroom was definitely Blaine, but he sounded strange and strained.

"Are you okay?" Kurt asked, sliding up to the door and leaning to glance quickly inside, hoping he wasn't naked again this time. 

Blaine was sitting on the side of the tub, still dressed in the clothes Kurt had lent him the night before. His frame was hunched over, hands cupping the opposite elbows, shoulders drawn up.

"I fear I may be ill," Blaine told him seriously, brow knitted in discomfort.

Kurt felt a surge of protectiveness and worry at the state of him, suddenly seeming so small and vulnerable.

"We were out in the rain last night," Kurt realised aloud. "You probably caught a cold. Do you feel warm?"

Stepping in, he reached out and brushed light fingers over Blaine's forehead, checking for a fever. Blaine's eyes were sweet, honey-golden and full of gratitude, staring up at him in the morning light as his palm rested over his forehead. He didn't have a fever.

Kurt gave him a gentle look of concern, and realised at once how frightening being sick would actually be for someone who'd never experienced it before. Suddenly your body is sore, your nose running, your throat hurts. _God, it'd be terrifying._

"I don't know," Blaine shook his head quickly as Kurt pulled his hand back. "My hips feel terribly strange. And…" He lifted his arms.

Kurt's eyes shot up to the ceiling the moment he realised. "Ohhh… oh. Okay. Um."

_Oh god. He's hard._

"That's… there's… you…" Kurt stumbled over words, flustered and lost, and scrambling for a coherent sentence.

Blaine searched him for a moment, uneasy. "Kurt?"

"I - I should go," Kurt backed up a little, eyes flicking everywhere he could possibly look that wasn't at Blaine, "and let you," he waved a hand as he turned, "take care of … that."

Blaine's face pulled tight in hurt, and he curled both arms around his chest again, whispering to himself; "What's wrong with me?"

Kurt froze in the doorway at the sound of his voice.

On a shaky exhale, he let his eyes drift closed. 

He knew that tone of voice. 

It was the same one he used to use - just a young boy standing in front of a mirror, lost in his own body, terrified of what happened when he looked at other boys. _What's wrong with me?_

He worried his lower lip for a moment with his teeth.

 _You'd be scared as hell,_ the scolded himself. _If you woke up one morning and your body was doing something it had never done before. And nobody would tell you why._

Seizing a determined breath, he turned around, falling into a crouch to meet Blaine's eyes.

"There's nothing … _wrong_ with you," he said softly, trying to keep his voice even.

Blaine searched him again, his eyes still huge and scared.

"It's normal, here," he clarified. " _Here_ , it's … normal. It happens, some mornings. It's not wrong or … bad. Come on," he held out his hand and let Blaine take it, rising to his feet.

He lead them out of the bathroom, snatching a box of tissues on the way.

"I'm not ill?" Blaine asked, padding along quietly behind him.

Kurt didn't trust himself to look back without looking down, and that would just be another world of awkward. He kept his eyes straight ahead as they made it to the guest room.

"No, you're not sick," he said carefully. "This is your room, for while you're here."

Blaine stared, slack-jawed, at the brightly lit bedroom, gaze trailing over the soft bed in the centre, lined with a deep purple quilt cover and huge, fluffy european pillows. The vanity was dark mahogany wood to match the wardrobe, and the walls were soft cream.

"It's beautiful," Blaine breathed. "It… it reminds me of home, actually."

Kurt smiled weakly, still trying to figure out exactly how to take care of their predicament. He spied the waste bin in the corner, and released Blaine's hand long enough to retrieve it and sit it by the bed.

"Here's what we'll do. You need to learn how to… take care of yourself. When it happens," he said, voice shaking slightly as he tried to ignore the flush creeping over his cheeks.

Blaine nodded his understanding. "How do I do that?"

Kurt took another careful breath. "It's a private… thing. Something you do on your own. In private."

Blaine blinked at him, confused. "Why?"

"It's … a long story. Just for now, I can…" He rubbed his face, ignoring the myriad of voices in his head demanding to know what the hell he thought he was doing, "I can talk you through it, just. Here-" He passed him the tissue box.

"What are these for?"

"Cleaning up," he said quickly. "Afterwards, you clean up with these, and put them in the bin there," he pointed, moving back out the door and taking the handle. "I'll be on the other side of the door."

Blaine's eyes flashed with surprise. "You're leaving?"

"No, I'll be right here," he said, patting the door. "Just listen to my voice."

Nodding once, Blaine watched as the door slipped closed.

"Can you hear me?" Kurt asked.

"Yes."

"Good. Alright, find some… comfortable place to sit down. On the bed is fine."

There was a moment of quiet, followed by a tiny yelp. "Incredible. It's so soft. We don't have beds like this in Daltasia."

"That's great," Kurt muttered to himself, leaning back against the wall. He took a calming breath, and wet his lips. "Alright, then… just," he winced, "take down your pants, but - slowly. Don't hurt yourself."

He listened for any kind of reaction, trying not to imagine every fine, minute, perfect detail of what was happening on the other side of the door. _Focus. This is about helping him._

"Oh my."

Kurt tried not to laugh. "Just kind of… take a hold of it. Gently. With one hand."

"How?"

"Like…" Kurt rubbed frantically at his eyes. "Like… holding your sword." _Like holding your sword, oh my GOD, what am I doing?_

There was a pause.

"Then what do I do?"

Kurt swallowed roughly, letting his eyes fall shut and forcing down the smile that was threatening to spread across his face. _Oh my god, grow up._

"Just kind of… stroke up and down? Lightly. Be gentle," he instructed on an uneven voice. "Do what … feels good. You'll know when you find it."

"I don't understand, it feels - _OH!_ "

"Theeeere it is," Kurt said, sliding down the wall to the floor. 

He sat in the quiet, waiting and strumming his fingers on his leg as the minutes passed. He rolled his head against the wall, watching the patterns of sunlight and shadow, trying to ignore the different images flicking over in the back of his mind, illustrating every little thing that might be happening on the other side of the door.

The way his breath would be coming too quickly, soft puffs of air over his parted pink lips, his head tipped back, eyes closed and lost to the rush of sensation.

_Stop it._

The slide of his broad, firm hand over himself, squeezing and slipping up sensitive skin for the first time, slowly getting rougher and more needy. Hips jerking, shaking and trembling, the way his head would loll to the side, the whimper as he slowly came undone.

_Enough. Oh god, stop thinking about it._

Kurt twisted on the ground, shifting at the uncomfortable rush of heat pooling low in his belly and trying desperately to think of anything else. 

He forced his thoughts back to work, to the models on the runway; the long insect-inspired dress jackets from the last show, and the longer women under them. His breathing slowed, and calmed again, and gradually he wandered back to thoughts of the newest showcase and the next spring line.

His work thoughts were interrupted with a spark of imaginary conversation, tinted with his current situation. _So, Hummel, what did you do with your time off?_

_Oh, nothing. Spring cleaning. Spent some time in the park. Taught a cartoon prince how to jerk off. The usual._

With a snort, he covered his face in his hands to keep himself from laughing aloud at the lunacy of it all.

A sudden, strangled, beautiful cry came from the other side of the door, almost like music until it broke and faded away.

Kurt straightened. "Blaine?"

Silence.

He swallowed, shifting on the floor carefully to listen at the door.

There was a tiny rustle of movement, the cardboard drag of the tissue box and the slight squeak of the bed frame.

Pulling himself to his feet, he knocked gently. "Blaine? Are you… covered up? I'm coming in."

The door swept open gradually with his gentle push, and he peered inside, worried he'd moved too soon.

Blaine was spread out on the bed, panting and breathless, staring up at the ceiling through half-lidded eyes. His pants were pulled up haphazardly, barely clinging to his hips, and his shirt was twisted halfway up his chest, exposing the long, smooth line of his belly and the underside of his ribs.

Kurt felt the tell-tale heat flooding in again, and squeezed against it, willing it away.

"H- how do you feel?" he asked carefully.

Blaine's eyelashes fluttered, and his mouth dropped open for a long moment before he spoke. "I didn't know it could do that."

Kurt muffled his laugh with his palm, shaking his head fondly.

The thump of the front door closing made him jerk to attention, and he glanced over his shoulder at the sound of Rachel's voice, calling his name.

"Oh, crap," he said softly, turning his gaze back to the boneless prince on the bed. "Blaine?"

Blaine's head rolled to the side, and he blinked once very slowly, staring up at Kurt with an adoring smile. "Yes?"

Kurt's heart fluttered in his chest at that look, at the beautiful face gazing up at him like he was the only thing in the world.

"Rachel's here," he croaked. "She's uh… she's going to take you out today, to help you … look," he told him, shifting back to the door. "You might want to shower, and get dressed. I dried your clothes, they're in the bathroom."

With a weak, lazy nod, Blaine watched Kurt slide out the door and pause.

"Oh," he said, leaning back in. "Remember, this is … private. It's not something you… talk about."

Blaine gave him another quick nod in understanding before the door finally closed.

Speeding down the hallway to intercept his roommate, Kurt tried to look as innocent as possible.

"I brought caffeine! Do you love me?" she asked brightly, sweeping through the living room to wiggle a cardboard tray at him.

"I do," he said eagerly, gathering his cup and swigging it. "Oh, _god_ yes."

She eyed him carefully, sitting the cardboard tray on the kitchen bench as they both stopped to lean against it. 

"What?" he asked, noticing her stare.

"You're shaking a little, are you feeling okay?"

He tried for a calm smile, suddenly aware that the giddy aftermath of the morning probably left him looking slightly manic. "I'm fine. You know me. Not used to not working."

"You need to take more time off," she insisted, fussing with her jacket.

"Two days is more than enough."

"So how is he?" she asked, peering down the hall and spotting the quiet prince padding towards the bathroom. "Blaine! Good morning!"

He smiled dopily and lifted a hand in greeting before he met Kurt's eyes. A sudden blush rose in his cheeks, and he ducked his head, slipping into the bathroom quietly.

Rachel fixed Kurt with a stunned, calculating look. "Did he just blush?"

Kurt shook his head innocently, sipping his coffee. "What? No."

"Kurt."

"It was probably just a trick of the light," he lied, waving a dismissive hand. "You're seeing things."

"Kurt. He looks different. Why does he look different?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

" _Kurt_."

"Fine," Kurt snapped. "There was a… situation."

She squealed quietly, clapping both hands together and pressing them to her mouth. "I knew it! Did you kiss him? Please, tell me you kissed him!"

"What? No!" Kurt glared at her, ignoring the blush rising in his own cheeks at the memory of the night before. "No, there was no kissing."

Her shoulders slumped in disappointment. "Why not?"

"Rachel, the man just walked out of a fairytale, the only thing he's missing is the sassy horse," Kurt said. "He's looking for a _princess_ , remember?" 

"Oh, please." She rolled her eyes, adjusting her bag on her shoulder. "Fairytales change. The details don't matter, the story stays the same."

"Since when are you an expert?" he asked, taking another sip.

"Every little girl with big dreams is an expert in fairytales," she told him. "You just need to stop wasting time dancing around Prince Charming and start dancing _with_ him."

"What does that even mean?" he asked, incredulous. "Look, I have to get these sketches done or Macy will kill me. The ball's less than two weeks away and I haven't even started on that yet."

"Oh, the ball!" she said excitedly, bouncing on the spot. "I forgot about that, they finally roped you in. Oh, oh!" she tugged on his sleeve frantically. "You know who would fit right in at a ball."

He glared. "Don't even start."

She grinned at him, swaying back and forth. "Uhuh. Okay, well I'll take your prince off your hands for today. But only on one condition."

Kurt eyed her carefully.

"When we get back, you have to tell me what you're not telling me," she insisted.

He sighed heavily.

"Kurt."

"Fine," he said, and rolled his eyes at the excited squeal he got in reply.

"Lady Rachel, it is good to see you."

She leaned back, smiling brightly at Blaine as he wandered into the room. Back in his royal attire, he should have looked the same as he always did, but Kurt could see it. That one little side of him that had changed completely, shy and sweet and hesitant, tucked behind his eyes.

"And you too, good prince." She curtseyed. "You'll be coming out with me, today, if you like?"

Blaine's gaze drifted between the two of them, and he smiled softly at Kurt for a moment before his eyes dropped. "I would like that, yes."

Rachel smirked at Kurt, and he swallowed in a flash of panic when he realised; she could see it, too.

"Come then," she said grandly, moving and offering Blaine her bent arm. "Shall we?"

He beamed, slipping back into his princely manners as he linked his arm with hers. "Of course, my lady." He bowed slightly as he passed. "Kurt."

"Have fun," Kurt offered weakly as he watched them move toward the door.

In the silence that lingered behind them when the door clicked shut, he sighed again, sinking his frame over the kitchen bench. His near-empty coffee cup skidded over the cool marble, and he stared at the label without really looking at it, his mind reeling.

_What did I just do?_

He closed his eyes at the sudden rush of _Blaine_ that came crashing down again in spectres of imagination; panting, writhing, moaning and stroking himself, sliding on the bedspread, coming undone for the first time in his life while Kurt sat on the other side of the door.

His body squeezed tight against the ache it stirred inside.

 _Well,_ a voice in his head supplied, _I guess he's a real boy, now._

He laughed brokenly, thumping his head once on the bench and straightening up. _Work,_ he decided. _Forget it all, and work._

With one last fleeting glance to the door, he wandered back down the hall.


	6. Chapter 6

He'd gone back to work the next day with a nervous quake to his hands and too many hesitant glances back over his shoulder. Leaving Blaine alone wasn't ideal, but with his deadlines looming and the Purple Ball just over a week away, he had little choice.

Most of the time he didn't get involved actively in the community, but he'd been harangued into arrangements and costumes for the charity event this year, and it was as much of a burden on his already too-heavy workload as it was a small thrill of excitement lingering in the back of his mind. 

He'd always loved the pomp and the grandeur of it, the spectacle of so many big names side by side with bright-eyed every day New Yorkers, all decked out in decadent costume regalia. He preferred the new annuals to the old, the LGBTQ Prom and traditions of the past. There was something special about the sheer audacity of the Purple Ball itself; women courting each other, parading in flawless couture gowns and suits, men with canes and hats dancing arm in arm with other men under brilliant lights and banners of endless, rich, blooming colour, beating in the heart of New York city.

The years he'd spent dreaming up his perfect costume for the ball suddenly bled into reality, and it was as thrilling as it was overwhelming. There was too much to do, although he had the one blessing of a pre-set date; Rachel had decided she would grace his arm for the night, despite her separate invitation.

When he lost himself to work, the day flew by too quickly. He pushed through the lobby too late into the evening, mind flooding with the old familiar feeling of not having enough work done. He shuffled through seemingly endless crowds, heading home again with another folder of sketches tucked haphazardly under one arm. The lingering weight of his work worries soon gave way to the warm, pleasant feeling creeping into his chest, the reminder of what was waiting for him.

"I'm home," he called, sliding through the door of his apartment and letting it clip shut behind him. 

The strangeness of those words resonated for a moment. Rachel was always out at another party or event, or out of town, never home before him. All those endless nights he'd tumbled through his front door to a dark apartment, still and too quiet in the middle of the ocean of noise of that was the city, suddenly washed away. He fought down a smile at the fact that he was not just home, but had somebody to tell.

He hung his coat awkwardly, juggling his bag and folder before he leaned back to peer into his empty living room. "Blaine?"

There was no answer, and he ignored the irritating flash of panic in his throat.

"Blaine?" he called again, dropping his work and bag on the table as he passed and wandered down the hall.

He paused in the open doorway to Blaine's room, eyes bright with amusement as he folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the frame.

Like a child in a tiny rowboat in the middle of a sea, Blaine sat cross-legged on his bed, already showered and in the sweats and singlet that doubled as his makeshift pyjamas. The bed was strewn with books, some of them on edge or overturned, some stacked to the side, half of them bookmarked by being splayed face down. The book in his lap covered most of his legs, its huge and glossy pages spread open and shimmering in the light as he pawed over it with trembling hands.

"You had a busy day," Kurt said, unable to keep the smile from his face.

Blaine jumped slightly at the sound of his voice, the book flipping in his lap. He stared up blankly for a moment before his face split into a giant grin, and he bolted up to his knees. "Kurt! Oh, Kurt - there are so many things! - I've found - with - there's-" He was scrambling as he spoke, trying to pick a book to show him, trying to figure out what to tell him first.

Kurt laughed silently. "You've been reading?"

" _Oh_ , Kurt," Blaine breathed, suddenly overwhelmed. "Your world is so magical. There's so much! There's so much to learn and so much to see - I had no idea it was so vast. So many different places, _countries_ ," he enunciated carefully, and gave a little proud smile at the word. "So many oceans and seas, and there's so much out there."

Kurt noticed with a tilt of his head that the broad book was his Atlas.

"It's a big world," he agreed.

"I want to see all of it," Blaine insisted, his voice intense and deep.

Kurt chuckled. "That usually takes a very long time."

Blaine's face fell in an instant, and he settled back onto his thighs.

Cocking his head, Kurt watched him for a moment. "What is it?"

"I only have eight days left," Blaine said softly. "It's not enough time."

Kurt fixed him with a sympathetic look. _But what if you don't only have eight days?_ he thought. _What if it's all in your head?_

"You could stay," Kurt offered, and froze, suddenly aware of what he was saying.

Blaine smiled sadly. "Daltasia needs their King. I could come back," he said, brightening, but only for a moment before the realisation crept back in. "Except… when I am King… I can't leave. I _couldn't_ leave. They'd need me."

Trying to ignore the dull ache in his chest, Kurt studied Blaine's dejected face carefully, unsure of what to say.

"Well," he began, not sure where he was going with it. "I mean, eight days isn't _nothing_ , either. What else is there?"

Blaine glanced up at him briefly before his gaze fell to the other books on the bed. "Oh!" he said, fumbling over dictionaries and language books, cookbooks and paperbacks.

Kurt suddenly realised that Blaine had actually taught himself how to use the dictionary to read the other books he'd gone through, so he didn't miss anything. His brow lifted in surprise, and he smiled to himself, impressed.

"You really do love reading," he said, watching as Blaine tried to determine what to show him next.

"I do," he said. "There is so much to learn here. So many things I never - even dreamed of. Your languages, your art, your food."

Kurt stiffened, glancing around the room as an idea grew in his mind. "Have you had dinner?"

He shook his head without looking up. "Lady Rachel is out for the evening with her love," he said.

"Alright," Kurt began, wandering to the bedside and taking the books out of Blaine's hands.

Blaine's fingers groped at the air for a moment in their wake, and he let out a tiny noise of protest, like a child whose toy had been confiscated. Kurt tried not to laugh.

"Dinner," Kurt said. "I can't show you the world, but you can at least experience some of the finer cuisine."

"Oh!" Blaine exclaimed, sliding off the bed. "Wonderful!"

With a soft chuckle, Kurt straightened and turned for the door. 

Suddenly, a cold rush prickled his skin, and he froze with a gasp as icy panic shot through his veins.

There was a man looking out of the mirror.

A stranger, lingering for a moment in peripheral vision, just a flash of a shadow and a smile that sent a shudder twisting up his spine.

"Kurt?" Blaine asked worriedly, bracing his shoulders from behind. "What is it?"

The face was gone.

He was sure he'd seen it. It was there. He _knew_ it was there, but at the same time, the mirror was empty, reflecting only the now-empty bed strewn with books.

"What?" Kurt asked, realising Blaine had spoken. "Oh… n-nothing. It's fine. Just…" He shook himself free of the cold sensation, rubbing his own arm. "Seeing things."

 _It was probably just you,_ he scolded himself. _Just a trick of the light. It was nothing._

They made their way out to the living room and Blaine watched, captivated, as Kurt ordered Chinese food for dinner. The entire delivery process left him bewildered, and Kurt barely stopped him from gushing openly at the magic of it all to the startled delivery boy.

Blaine had adjusted to the lack of ritual surrounding meals fairly quickly, and as much as Kurt had always appreciated the presentation that went into a sit-down dinner, he found himself preferring Blaine this way. Any remnants of the perfectly prim prince had fled, leaving him warm and loose, draped over a chair with his knee up to his chest, trying to master chopsticks and passing cartons back and forth with excited, eager hands.

Kurt barely ate, too busy caught up in fascination with Blaine, the way every little thing and ever new flavour made him giddy with delight. So little about him made sense, so much of him seemed utterly impossible - and yet, there he was.

Work the next day was over too fast, another whirlwind of colours and fabrics and ideas, and not enough done. His late call from Macy left him reeling, suddenly free for the entire week and unburdened by the new line, with time off from the office to focus and finish up work on the ball.

Kurt knew he'd be caught up in errands most days, inspecting the ballroom and the decorations, coordinating designs for the costumes to match - but something inside him thrilled, all the same. The week off meant more time with Blaine.

He was late getting out again, and grateful he'd left his evening plans with Rachel, though somewhat envious of the Portuguese banquet he'd missed out on as he grabbed a quick salad en route. Still, he could imagine it all so clearly; the look on Blaine's face as he ate, the way his hands moved when he talked about the incredible new experiences he was having, the way he lit up completely, unabashedly, each time. 

It was familiar, and exciting, and comforting - a feeling that curled in Kurt's heart like a warm coal of memory. It became the thing he looked forward to most the next day, being the one to share it with him again.

The daydream was enough to get by for now, it kept him steady and sure as he found a cab and ducked out of the rain, glad to be heading home.

He arrived to find Blaine on the couch, sleepy and hovering over a huge history volume that had almost tipped off his lap.

Kurt paused just to watch him for a long, peaceful moment, leaning against the wall and letting his gaze drift over his face. He smiled at the soft, damp curls that fell on Blaine's forehead, the way his eyelashes fluttered as he tried to stay awake. His long fingers and broad palms curled loosely over the sides of the book, protective and reverent, like it was some kind of treasure he couldn't let go of.

Putting down his armfuls of folders and sketchbooks, Kurt removed his coat as quietly as possible before toeing off both shoes. He wandered to the couch, dipping his head to try and get his attention. 

"Blaine?"

"Hmm?"

Kurt's eyes narrowed fondly as Blaine swayed and tried to look up through heavy eyelids.

"Alright, let's get you to bed," he said, lifting the book and flicking the ribbon to keep Blaine's place before he set it down on the coffee table.

"S'reading," Blaine told him in a mumble, and Kurt laughed softly.

"I know," he said. "You're always reading."

"Love…" Blaine's voice trailed off, and Kurt blinked in surprise.

 _He loves reading,_ a voice in his head supplied.

_Right._

He lifted Blaine's arm over his own shoulders, scooping a hand around his back gently and guiding him up to his feet. "Cooome on."

"Mmmph," Blaine mumbled again, head dropping to the side as he buried his face in the crook of Kurt's neck.

They stumbled down the hall, and Kurt tried to keep them both upright, his breath coming just a little too quick and his heart pounding just a little too fast. It was one thing to watch Blaine, to see him and hear him, but to touch him was something else entirely. The body under his hands was somehow too real to be part of some fairytale, soft and firm all at once, flawless, and innocent, and unbroken.

He could feel the curl of Blaine's arm behind his neck, the gusts of hot air over his collarbone, the warmth of his chest pressed against his side _(hands, breath, heartbeat, I can feel your heartbeat)_ , could feel the tickle of hair under his chin and the angles of Blaine's face pushed against his neck, nuzzling softly.

"Warm," Blaine said, eyes still closed against him.

Kurt drew a shaky breath, trying to keep his voice even. "Good to know, it means I'm not dead yet."

"Nooo," Blaine whined quietly, lips brushing Kurt's skin. "Kurt. No."

His heart clenched tightly at the reaction, and as they reached the bedside he leaned to drop Blaine onto his back, peeling the covers away. "Come on. Bed."

"Humans're warm blooded muh-mammals," Blaine parroted softly, and Kurt huffed out a laugh. 

"Someone found the Discovery Channel," he teased, guiding Blaine's feet _(warm, solid, real, too-big feet)_ under the duvet before he pulled it up to his chest.

He leaned back, and Blaine shifted at the sudden loss of contact.

"Kurrrt," he said, arms groping in the air as he rolled against the pillow.

"Shh," Kurt slapped his hands away playfully, eyes bright and amused. "Sleep. We're going somewhere tomorrow, some place big. You'll see."

Blaine huffed a little breath as he settled, head lolling the other way. "Kurt," he repeated quietly, more at peace this time, like the word itself was a comfort.

"Good night, Blaine," Kurt whispered fondly, backing up to the door and leaning for the light switch.

He stopped for a moment, glancing over at the bed to watch the soft rise and fall of his body as his breathing evened out, and sleep took him. Kurt smiled.

With one last lingering glance at the mirror, he sighed and flicked off the light.

The next morning's routine was rushed and almost incomplete, his head caught up in excitement, hands flitting nervously back and forth over different products, very nearly forgetting the order. When he finally pulled on the clothes he'd laid out the night before and stepped into the hall, he caught a blushing Blaine wandering to the bathroom, smiling softly and walking in zig zag of lazy steps.

He tried his best to not think about exactly what it meant, even though he already knew.

_You're the one who taught him how, for crying out loud._

By the time Blaine was dressed and fresh-faced, leaning on the kitchen counter, Kurt had downed an early coffee and was hopping around the kitchen making breakfast, cursed with an overabundance of excited energy. Blaine watched him intently, trying to figure out on his own the purpose of each little thing he did.

After a moment, Blaine blinked, leaning over the counter. "You have a magic lamp?"

"Hmm?" Kurt turned, and chuckled as he watched Blaine poke the appliance with interest. "That's a toaster."

"Toaster," Blaine repeated. "Does it hold a genie-YIKE!" he shouted in surprise when the toast popped and clipped him in the face, falling to the floor on the other side of the counter.

Kurt doubled over, shaking violently and trying to sound as worried as he could manage when he finally got the words past the laughter; "Bl- Blaine, are you okay?"

The top of Blaine's head popped up suddenly on the other side of the bench, and he eyed the toaster carefully. "It's some kind of trap?"

"No, no-" Kurt reached a hand out, pawing helplessly at the countertop and desperately trying to fight the noises that threatened to break free again. His voice was high and breathy, and barely controlled. "Ohhh, no, it - it just cooks bread. I should have warned you, it does that." 

Another round of gentle, musical giggles escaped him as he turned back to start scrambling the eggs.

Blaine pouted slightly, lifting himself to his feet. "You're laughing at me?"

Kurt turned immediately to apologise, but the look in Blaine's eyes betrayed his amusement. 

"I am," he admitted with a soft smirk, and warmed at the smile he got in return.

"Where are we going today?" Blaine asked eagerly, drawing a stool out to sit.

Kurt turned back to his eggs, working quickly and pulling out plates as he went. "You'll see."

Breakfast was a blur of hot food and quick explanations on kitchen appliances, all met with nods of understanding and a flicker of fascination caught in big hazel eyes. It struck Kurt all at once that Blaine had probably never cooked before in his life. At least, not without a campfire.

 _He's not an actual prince, stop pretending,_ the voice in his head demanded and, just like every other time over the span of the last two days, was ignored.

They wandered into the city by bus this time, an entirely new experience that left Blaine a little unsteady on his feet. He stumbled awkwardly as they alighted, leaning on Kurt for support. 

"It's like travelling in the belly of a dragon," he mumbled, awestruck and a little green.

Kurt huffed a laugh. "That's… frighteningly accurate."

When they reached 42nd street and crossed the open pavement, Blaine grew very quiet. Kurt glanced at him intermittently as they walked, enjoying the early reaction; the open surprise on his face, his huge eyes trailing over the marble of the building before them and lingering on the lions. 

"I've never seen a palace like this one."

"It's not a palace," Kurt teased, lips curling into a knowing smile. He reached out to take Blaine's hand as they got closer, unable to look away from the enchanted expression on his face.

Kurt's heart fluttered with excitement as they wandered up the steps past packs of locals and tourists alike, giddy with the knowledge that this was going to be wonderful.

Blaine's eyes darted all around, soaking in the pillars and the carved statues, trailing over the three high arches of the entrance before they passed beneath. 

They made their way inside, and he followed behind Kurt in small, stunted steps, stopping whenever Kurt stopped, holding tight to his hand, eyes never falling from the immensity of all that stood around them. The ceilings were high, and the staircase peeling off to the right lead up and away to another floor, turning at an angle. Blaine drew a long, deliberate breath, trying to soak in everything he was seeing.

Kurt lead him through another door into a long, grand hall, bigger than any royal court or council Blaine had witnessed. It was filled with row after row of tables, chairs and lamps, the walls lined endlessly with wooden shelves, and on them more books than Blaine had ever seen in his life.

His mouth fell open in surprise, eyelashes fluttering madly as he tried to understand what he was looking at. 

The huge, arched windows let in curtains of warm daylight, spilling over the wood floors below and leaving shadows on the dark bannisters of the upper level. The huge hanging pendants above them lined the ceiling with circles of hundreds of smaller lights, each of them leading down the long hall in rows on either side. 

"Oh," Blaine breathed, mouth still agape as he tried to form any kind of coherent thought.

Kurt watched him with a nervous, gentle smile, and squeezed his hand. "Welcome to the library."

Blaine turned to him, mouth trembling and eyes flashing with absolute, undiluted wonder. "I-" He panted softly, heart racing, trying to think of another word.

"It's okay," Kurt laughed, rubbing Blaine's back and leading him into the room. They found the nearest chairs, and Kurt drew them out quickly to sit down. "Just, take a minute."

He watched, unable to keep the grin from his face, as Blaine pivoted in his seat, straining and leaning to stare at everything he could. When he finally turned back, he dropped both hands on the table, his breath shaky and uncontrolled.

"Do you like it?" Kurt asked carefully.

"Like it? Kurt, it's-" his eyes fell closed, and his mouth shaped around the words before he said them aloud, "It's _wonderful_. I never even dreamed it could- that there'd be-"

"I know," Kurt said, rubbing the back of his hand soothingly.

Blaine met his gaze, brow drawn together, eyes bigger than Kurt had ever seen them and so much brighter, glowing with something unnamable in the silvery light. 

Kurt realised in that moment what he'd just done. 

_To him, **this** is the fairytale._

Blaine's voice was barely a whisper. "Thank you."

Kurt let his gaze fall to the soft, shaking line of Blaine's mouth, and up again, trying to reconcile reality with the fluttering, somersaulting sensation in his stomach.

He realised he wasn't really breathing, just staring and smiling. He let his breath go slowly, carefully, resting his hand over Blaine's again, warm and solid _(real)_ under his fingertips.

He wanted to say what he was feeling. He wanted, just once, to say without a blush to his face or a tremble in his hands; _You take my breath away._

Instead he said, "You're welcome."


	7. Chapter 7

The weekend flew by in a whirlwind of sound and colour, caught up in the kaleidoscope that was New York. They spent most of their time wandering through the city, and museum visits and gallery tours soon became long walks in the park, filled with discussions on Blaine's favourite books and favourite foods from all the foreign cuisine they'd tried. He stopped at every busker to sing along, to dance and enjoy the different styles of music while Kurt stood by and watched, eyes shining with amusement and delight.

When Blaine beckoned him to dance, Kurt stumbled, shaking his head profusely and trying to back away until those warm hands were in his again, pulling him in, huge eyes pleading and impossible to turn down.

They twirled and turned together, shaking their hips and laughing in the middle of the park in broad, beautiful daylight. Kurt didn't know if anybody was watching them. He didn't care. For the first time since he was small, since he was just a little boy holding his father's hand in a cemetery, he felt like the world wasn't so heavy after all.

By monday he was caught up in the ball preparations, his mind a blur of fantasy and song. His imagination ran wild with every story Blaine told him of Daltasia, and slowly the daydreams crept into his designs.

He could see it all so clearly in flashes behind his eyes; the long flowing gowns and deep velvety tunics, the boots and the capes, all in perfect Technicolor, lost in the fairytale that lingered in his thoughts when he drifted to sleep each night.

He finished the designs in less than a day and advanced them to Macy, hoping the delay wouldn't put off the bigger celebrity names the label was dressing for the evening. The gowns were impeccable - his best work in a long time - but his favourite, of course, was his own suit. It was flawless; the amalgamation of decades of daydreaming, and one week of life with a prince.

Satisfied and feeling unburdened at last come monday evening, he tried to relax into the couch, and soak in the quiet. 

He lasted five minutes before he was checking the clock, and shooting absent glances to the front door.

Rachel and Blaine had been out all day at her insistence, convinced she'd found him a princess at last. Blaine had been less than enthusiastic about the outing, but was seemingly incapable of declining, even politely. 

Kurt tried to ignore the tiny thrill he'd felt at the look on Blaine's face, the little regretful glance as he was dragged out the door.

But they'd been gone all day, and now Kurt's stomach felt like it was trapped somewhere near his ribs, churning and bubbling incessantly as he got up to pace and tidy things that didn't need tidying. 

_It doesn't take a whole day to say no,_ his mind taunted him. _What if he found her?_

He stopped, and stared at the wall for a long moment, his brow knitting together tightly.

_His stupid magical princess, and her stupid perfect fairytale hair and her stupid, insipid eyes. I bet they're beady._

He flopped on the couch with a sigh, scolding himself quietly.

_But what if he **did** find her?_

Kurt glanced at the clock again, trying to ignore the voice in his head.

_How could she ever turn him down?_

He rubbed his eyes, desperately trying to think about anything else.

Without warning the door rattled and swung open, and he straightened in his seat, putting on a bright and innocent smile. "Oh," he said, feigning surprise. "You're back."

Rachel swept into the room smoothly with bags hanging from both arms, Blaine not far behind her with handfuls of his own.

"We had a wonderful day!" she began excitedly, dropping her things on the coffee table and pulling off her gloves.

"Really?" Kurt asked, trying for nonchalance.

He caught Blaine's fond smile, and smiled back for a moment before he noticed it: something was different about his expression, something strange and unfamiliar. 

Then he realised. Blaine was _tired._

Not sleepy, but exhausted like he'd never seen him before. Tiny crinkles had formed at the edges of his eyes where his smile reached, his frame sagged slightly, and his stubble was growing through, just the faintest shadow across his cheeks and chin.

Kurt watched him, stunned and unsure as to how he'd never noticed the stubble or the little smile lines before.

_They weren't there before._

"We've been shopping," Rachel told him seriously, slipping off her coat and handing it to Blaine to hang by the door.

"I can see that," Kurt answered, and poked the bags on the coffee table with his toe.

The vast majority seemed to be Rachel's, but at least two tall bags set by the wall were from bookstores. He huffed out a soft, fond laugh.

"So," he said carefully, glancing between the two of them. "No luck with your princess?"

Rachel tipped her head, wearing that one look Kurt knew all too well. That look that said, _I've done something, and I don't want to tell you what it is yet._

"Sadly no," Blaine replied, oblivious. "Lady Rachel's friend was a beautiful and kind lady, but she is … not the princess for me."

Kurt almost grinned at how awkward he seemed, how hard he was struggling to find kindness around his obvious distaste.

Rachel's mouth quirked into a tiny smile, her eyes bright and a little mischievous. "Don't worry, Blaine," she said, turning to pat his arm comfortingly. "I promise we'll keep looking."

Blaine gave her a nod, but his faint smile lacked any kind of reassurance. 

Kurt could hear what he was thinking, it was written all over his face. _There's only four days left._

"Well," he said brightly. "I finished my work today. That means I have a few days free, I can… help."

"Oooh, you finished!" Rachel clapped excitedly, turning back to him. "I can't wait to see my dress! Is it amazing? I mean, I know it's going to be amazing. But is it amazing?"

He arched an eyebrow at her. "Would I create anything less than amazing for the shining star that is Rachel Berry, at the social event of the season?"

She scrunched her nose up in delight, shaking her tiny fists against her chest.

"You're preparing for a gathering?" Blaine asked, intrigued.

Kurt sat back in surprise. All this time, and he hadn't mentioned the ball once to Blaine, too caught up in everything else they could do and see for however long he had him there. 

A cold shiver trickled down Kurt's spine at the reminder, the knowledge that lingered at the periphery of his everyday thoughts; Blaine would be gone in four days. 

"Oh!" Rachel spun around, hair flying. "Oh, yes, the ball is on thursday night! You have to come!" 

Blaine blinked at her, eyes widening. "A ball?"

"A ball," she enthused, taking his hand as she swayed. "With gowns, and suits, and music. I have another ticket, you can come, please say you will?"

He shifted on his feet, surprised. "I… yes, of course," he agreed. "A ball would certainly be the place to meet a princess, I suppose."

"Yes!" she squealed, diving to hug around his waist.

Blaine rocked back for a moment, laughing softly as she squeezed him and let go.

"I should put together a suit for you," Kurt suggested.

"Is this not appropriate?" Blaine asked, pressing his hands to the crest of his tunic.

Kurt squinted at him and offered gently; "It might need a rest."

Blaine chuckled. "Thank you, Kurt," he said, sincerity lighting up his eyes. "That would be wonderful."

"I'll need to get your measurements, later," Kurt added absently as he stood. "Remind me."

Blaine nodded, mouth curling into a shy smile as he helped Rachel collect her things, and take them to her room.

Dinner was Italian, and the three of them gathered around the table, sipping red wine and laughing over Blaine's misadventures trying to master the act of eating fettuccini.

By the time the dishes were in the sink, Blaine had disappeared to the bathroom to clean up for the evening, and Kurt lingered at the table with Rachel to revel in the rarity of having her stay home for the night.

Once she'd heard the bathroom door slip shut, she sipped her red wine, fixing Kurt with a devious look. "So, Blaine and I talked a lot today…"

He knew that tone. That tone was _loaded._

"Spill."

"We talked," she said casually, swirling the liquid in her glass. "He told me about the library. About the museums and galleries, and all the things he's learned."

Kurt smiled softly, gaze drifting over the bags of books still leaning against the wall.

She glanced up to the ceiling innocently. "He talks about you a lot."

His eyes flicked back to her, wide with surprise for a moment before he shook his head slightly. "Rachel, I-"

"Don't tell me you don't see the way he smiles at you, the way he talks to you."

"He smiles at everyone," Kurt said insistently, keeping his tone hushed. "The other day he introduced himself to a dog."

She leaned in, undeterred. "He's not looking for a princess, Kurt! At least, he doesn't want to be."

He sighed, rocking back in his seat and linking his hands around a raised knee, hugging it to his chest. "It doesn't mean anything. He just wants to stay. He wants to learn."

Rachel nodded in agreement. "He's leaning so fast," she said. "And pretty soon, he's going to find out that love isn't… black and white, like it is in fairytales."

"So?"

"So," she drew a deep breath, "be gentle."

With a huff of laughter, Kurt reached out and took his glass. "Rachel, I am the worst person to teach him about love," he said, sipping his wine.

"Maybe." She smiled knowingly. "But that doesn't mean you're not the _right_ person. And sometimes we don't get a choice."

Kurt narrowed his eyes at her. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Don't pretend like you don't know," she said, rising to her feet and turning toward the living room.

She'd barely taken a step before she gasped violently and staggered on the spot, gripping the top of her chair.

"Rachel!" he rushed to his feet to brace her.

Blinking, she stared across the open space, face frozen in fear as her throat flashed with panicky breaths. 

"What is it? What's wrong?"

She seemed to come back to herself after a moment, and her eyes drifted shut for a beat before she swallowed and opened them again, peering over to the bookshelf mirror. 

"Nothing," she said. "Just… I thought I saw…"

Kurt lifted his brow at her questioningly.

"It was nothing," she insisted. "Just … my imagination."

She gave him a weak smile and a pat on the arm before she made her way to the coffee table. He watched carefully for a moment, uneasy like he hadn't been in a long time. Finally, he shook his head, and turned to gather the wine glasses.

He certainly wasn't unfamiliar with Rachel's more dramatic outbursts, he'd been witness to plenty, and was usually the one that had to calm her down afterwards. It had just been so long, he honestly couldn't remember the last time it happened.

He let her go, let her gather her bags and head off to her room to no doubt unpack (and colour coordinate and alphabetise) her newest wardrobe additions while he did the dishes and let his mind wander over absent thoughts of the ball, and ideas for Blaine's suit.

By the time he'd found his sketchbook and started drafting ideas, Blaine had re-emerged from the bathroom and collected his new books, settling in to the couch and stacking them delicately before he went about trying to decide which one to read first.

Kurt sat at the dining table with his glasses pushed up the bridge of his nose and smudges over his fingers as he worked, hashing out different ideas on silhouette after silhouette. He didn't really register the swooping lines he'd stopped to draw, the tiny waves of hair, the huge, bright eyes and perfectly curved mouths on each of them.

Rachel's voice floated across the room, singing along with the soft music trickling from the stereo while Blaine hunched over the huge, glossy book he'd selected, eyes suddenly wide and wandering over words and pictures.

At the turn of a page, his mouth fell open, fingers gripping the hard cover tightly. He blinked, pressing his mouth together in a thin line as his gaze drifted across the floor, lost in thought.

Still wrapped up in his work, Kurt hadn't noticed, and when Rachel suddenly bumped into his side he almost jumped out of his seat.

"Ooh, I like that one," she said, leaning over and tapping the paper with her finger. "I like all of them."

"That's very helpful," Kurt said dryly, shading down the lines of a coat.

"It's funny, you know," she said, voice deliberately soft. "I've never seen you draw faces on your designs before."

Kurt froze.

With a little smirk, she wiggled her hips slightly, one hand on the back of his chair.

Kurt glared at her for a moment before he returned his attention to his sketches. "So how's the work hiatus going?" he asked teasingly.

She huffed a heavy sigh, straightening. "Don't start."

"I wasn't starting anything," Kurt said quickly, keeping his eyes down.

"I just… I had so many dreams," she began seriously, and Kurt tried not to smile to widely.

If there was one thing he knew would always distract Rachel Berry, it was a subject change to the topic of Rachel Berry.

"I've lived them all," she said, incredulous. "All of my dreams. All these years on Broadway. All the awards. I did that movie."

"Uhuh," Kurt nodded, still focused on his work.

"I feel like I… I feel like there has to be more, you know? Like something's missing, something more important than singing on a stage."

Kurt gave her a mocking gasp, pressing a hand to his chest.

She shoved him playfully. "You know what I mean."

Neither of them noticed that Blaine had shifted his book from his lap, giving it one last hesitant glance and making sure it stayed open at the right page before he padded quietly over to Rachel's side.

"Besides," Rachel went on, "I feel like things are starting to change now. Like it's time for something new - oh, hi sweetie," she said suddenly as Blaine took her hand in his, then quickly turned her attention back to Kurt. "Like something big is coming, you know?"

"Rachel, you always think something big is coming," Kurt said, his pencil scratching across the page. He pushed his glasses up with the back of his hand. "And what about this new guy of yours, what does he think?"

She paused for a moment, mouth and eyes both pinching slightly. "About that-"

Kurt glanced up at her hesitation, but the look on Blaine's face distracted him instantly.

He was standing very still, his eyes cast down to where he held Rachel's hand in his own like it was a tiny bird, like a puzzle he couldn't quite figure out. His mouth twitched in confusion, and he dragged a thumb over the back of her hand carefully, seemingly waiting for something to happen.

"Blaine? What are you doing?" Kurt asked, amused.

Blaine dropped her hand like it had burned him, eyes darting up. "I - was just. Checking."

"Checking?" Kurt asked.

Rachel leaned back, glancing over to the couch and the open book splayed on the cushions. "Oh," she mouthed softly in understanding. 

She lifted both hands to Blaine's shoulders, guiding him back over to sit on the couch as she collected the book and examined the page he was on.

With a sweet smile, she handed it back to him. "So you were…?"

He tapped the top of the page, the little block letters above the picture of a man and a woman, holding hands: _Heterosexuality._

She tilted her head at him. "Nothing?"

He shook his head, wincing. "I'm sorry, I-"

"Don't apologise," she cut him off, sitting down next to him and leaning over to flip through the book and find the next chapter title. "Read this one."

"What is that?" Kurt asked, peering across the room.

Rachel straightened at the sound of his voice. "Human anatomy," she said, a little too quickly.

Kurt tried to hold in his exasperated sigh as he went back to his sketches. _Fantastic, Rachel. Teach him about body parts and he's going to start asking people how their spleens are doing today._

She watched Kurt carefully until she was sure he was distracted again, smiling to herself.

"Oh my," Blaine breathed softly beside her, his voice so quiet it was barely audible.

She turned back to him, gaze falling to the full page illustration open in his lap, glossy in painted watercolour print. With a soft smile, she rested a hand on his back, and realised he was trembling.

"What is it?" she asked in hushed tones, blinking back surprise when she realised there was moisture gathering in his lashes, glittering in his huge, tea-stained eyes.

He rested a hand on the drawing, fingers tracing over the curves of the bodies intertwined on the page. 

"I …"

She decided to give him a moment, to let him process, unsure if he even understood.

"It's so beautiful," he said on trembling lips, eyelashes fluttering softly. His voice cracked on the whisper of his words; "I didn't… I didn't know."

"Shhh," she rubbed his back soothingly, resting her chin on his shoulder.

The drawing was stunningly intimate, the two naked bodies coiled together, arms around each other in a passionate embrace. One of the men had his fingers twined through the other's hair, pressing their foreheads together as he rested in his lap, lost in the act of lovemaking.

"Keep reading," she said softly. "There's more."

He nodded, not quite able to speak, and hesitantly turned the page as she pulled herself up off the couch.

"I'm going to bed," she announced, wandering back over to the table and dropping a kiss on Kurt's forehead.

He didn't look up. "Mm-hmm."

"Don't forget to take measurements," she reminded him with a tiny, crooked smile.

"Mm-hmm."

Her smile spread into a grin as she slipped away, pausing at the open hallway to call back a soft goodnight to both of them.

It was a long time before the CD switched over the in stereo, the soft click drawing Kurt's attention up at last as he finished off his sketch. It had taken several tries, and then a combination of three of them, to find exactly what he wanted. Something elegant, but the right cut, the right shape, to maybe remind Blaine of home.

He glanced over to the couch where Blaine had drawn his feet up, book propped against them and arms curled around the cover, eyes flashing. It was still the same book, he realised as he stood and found his measuring tape in his bag.

"Blaine?"

"Hmm?" Blaine looked up, stunned like a deer caught in headlights.

Kurt tilted his head in invitation. "I need to measure you for your suit, come here for a minute?"

Blaine's mouth fell open briefly as he paused, blinking, and finally drew the book together carefully. He moved to put it on the lamp table, slow and steady like he was handling something precious, before he rose to his feet and shuffled over.

Kurt's mouth twitched into a hint of a smile at the way Blaine's toes curled in the bottom of the too-long sweat pants. It made him seem so child-like and still so innocent.

"Stand like this," Kurt instructed, demonstrating with his own body and waiting while Blaine mimicked him carefully.

He dropped down to his knees, uncurling the tape and sticking his pencil in his mouth, his notepad falling to the floor with an audible slap.

Focused on his task and scribbling down numbers quickly, he didn't see the way Blaine watched him, eyes still too bright and too wet in the warm light. He didn't feel Blaine's fingers ghosting in the air over his head, hesitant and shaking. They curled into loose, faltering fists and drew back, falling at his side and opening again, long fingers still twitching with the aftershocks of discovery.

Kurt tucked his notepad under his arm as he worked his way up, wrapping the tape around Blaine's hips and waist, measuring his shoulders and stopping each time to scratch down another set of numbers.

He took a quick neck measurement before he noticed the way Blaine's jaw was shaking, the flash of his throat in the soft light too fast and too uneven. Kurt looked up, worried, and caught the shimmer in Blaine's eyes as he stared openly, breathing through his mouth, face unreadable but so utterly wrecked in a way Kurt had never seen him.

"Hey, hey," Kurt reached out to hold his shoulders, searching his face. "What is it?"

Blaine swayed on his feet at the touch, staggering slightly, and Kurt's grip tightened on instinct before he dropped his hands to Blaine's waist to anchor him. "Whoa, what is it?"

"I-" Blaine blinked, still dazed, mouth trying to shape around words that never came.

"What happened?" Kurt asked, expression riddled with concern.

Blaine's eyes met his for just a moment before they trailed up to his hairline. After a moment lost in the quiet, his firm, warm fingers brushed gently through Kurt's hair, grazing over his temple.

Kurt couldn't help the puzzled smile that flashed across his face. "Wh- what are you--?"

Blaine swallowed, watching his own hand thread through Kurt's hair slowly, gently, taking his time.

"I missed you… today," he said, voice raw and straining.

Kurt huffed out a soft laugh, relief washing over him. "I … missed you too," he admitted. "But I'm free now, so we can go - back to the library tomorrow, if you want. Or somewhere new?"

Blaine leaned in, swaying towards him bodily and pressing their foreheads together, his breath heavy and breaking away from him in uncontrolled bursts.

Kurt's eyes drifted closed at the contact, lost in the sudden rush of exquisite, stomach-fluttering panic that came with Blaine's fingers in his hair, and the feel of him leaning so close.

"Are you sure you're alright?" he asked, blinking and a little shaky himself from the warmth that was rising in his chest.

"I'm…" Blaine met his eyes, eyelashes flickering rapidly for a moment before he wet his lips and seized a slow breath. "I'm _wonderful_."

Kurt laughed soundlessly, pulling back and letting Blaine's head drop down to the crook of his neck as he held the trembling prince in a tight hug.

"You scared me," he said softly. "I thought you were sick."

Blaine sniffed gently against his skin, hiding his face in Kurt's shirt and trying to calm his breathing.

"I'm wonderful," he repeated quietly, arms curled tightly around Kurt's body like it was a lifeline.

Kurt dropped his head, pressing a soft kiss into Blaine's hair before he realised what he was doing. Blaine seemed to relax against him at the touch, warm and pliant and perfectly moulded to his frame.

Kurt closed his eyes as they stood still together, lingering in the quiet of the night. 

_If fairytales aren't real,_ he wondered to himself, _then what's this?_

With his back was turned to the bookcase, and Blaine's face pressed against his neck, neither of them saw the flicker of movement caught in the reflection of the mirror,

In the shadows, where two eyes watched them silently under the surface of the glass.


	8. Chapter 8

After his morning routine the next day, Kurt wandered out into the living room in jeans and a plain striped shirt, warm and relaxed like he hadn't felt in a long time. The night before had left him floating, tranquil and giddy at the same time, and he couldn't keep the smile off his face.

Rachel had taken off already, had bolted through the living room with her gym bag before she wished him well and vanished like some kind of tiny bouncing mirage. Kurt rolled his eyes fondly in her wake, and went about tidying his sketchbooks and pencils from the previous night.

When Blaine hadn't emerged by the time he finished making pancakes, Kurt took a moment to peer down the hall, to eye the closed door at the end. It wasn't like Blaine to sleep in, he never had before. But then, something had happened to him last night, Kurt was certain. Something that Blaine hadn't been able to find the words to explain at the time.

An idea struck him, and he smiled to himself as he pulled down the breakfast tray he kept on the refrigerator. He prepared their plates quickly, gathering cutlery and lifting the tray to his hip before he wandered back down the hall.

He knocked softly when he reached the door. "Blaine?"

There was no answer. He knocked again, a little more firmly.

"Kurt?" was the muffled, sleepy reply, and Kurt smiled.

"Can I come in?"

"Yes," Blaine answered groggily, then quickly added; "P-please do."

Kurt opened the door, giving it a little push and adjusting his hands to hold the tray either side as he wandered in, smiling and cocking his head at the sleepy prince tangled up on the bed.

Books were strewn around the room in stacks, like tiny towers of paper and canvas, lined up either side of the bed frame or pushed back against the wall. Most of them had paper bookmarks and pieces of string sticking out of random pages, keeping place, sometimes in multitudes. Kurt couldn't help but huff a silent laugh.

Blaine blinked at him for a moment, bleary and beautiful, barely propped up and expressionless in his daze of half-awake. His hair was a mess, just a tangle of curls, and his scruff had darkened further still. When he saw the tray in Kurt's hands, his brow shot up and he blinked in surprise. "Breakfast?"

Kurt grinned as he came to the bedside. "Breakfast," he confirmed. "We can have it in here, if you want?"

Nodding rapidly, Blaine shifted up the mattress, scooting back and pulling the covers flat as Kurt lowered the tray and climbed carefully onto the bed beside it.

"Where did you want to go today?" he asked, handing Blaine the cutlery and turning the tray longways on the bed.

Blaine crossed his legs quickly, rocking forward and inspecting his plate with a gleam in his eye.

Kurt smiled at the reaction, remembering the last time they'd had pancakes, and the way Blaine had rhapsodised about them for half the day. The perfectionist in him scolded him silently for not making something different, something new. But he couldn't bring himself to listen. _Pancakes are his favourite._

"I was thinking," Blaine began, knife dragging through the butter. "Maybe… we could stay here today?"

Kurt's brow lifted in surprise. "Sure," he said, eyes drifting to the books. "You have plenty of reading to do."

Blaine nodded, still focused on the task of breakfast.

"I just have to drop off your suit design, then I'm… free. For the rest of the day," Kurt offered casually. 

He stopped the rest of his thoughts from reaching his mouth, stopped himself from asking, ignored the word _princess_ lingering on his tongue.

"Thank you so much, Kurt." Blaine looked up at him at last, eyes bright and sincere. "I can't even begin… I don't think I can ever thank you enough. For everything."

Kurt laughed. "It's not that big a deal," he said, waving a hand and taking another bite. "I think you'll love the suit, though. It's very… you. And you can wear your sword," he pointed with his fork to where the sword lay across the vanity, "it accessorises nicely."

Blaine glanced over at it, mouth curling into a hesitant smile.

After a beat, he looked at Kurt again quickly before he dropped his gaze to take another bite of his food. "It's been in the royal family for generations," he said. "It was my father's sword. So I'm grateful I won't have to part with it for the evening."

Kurt eyed the weapon, mind drifting over daydreams of knights and kings and castles. "It's beautiful," he said.

Blaine nodded. "It very powerful, too," he added after another mouthful. "It's how I got here."

Puzzled, Kurt turned back to him.

"Sebastian," Blaine explained. "He has great magical talents, but he needed something strong enough, powerful enough to get me here. The sword belonged to the Dual Queens of old, they say it holds power beyond imagining, and Sebastian simply… harnessed it."

Kurt nodded slowly in understanding as he ate.

"The enchantment holds to the sword," Blaine said, and paused before he added roughly; "When midnight comes on the twelfth night, it's… it's what will take me home."

Trying to swallow to wet his dry throat, Kurt sat back in shock. Three more days. That's all there was, just… three more days.

He glanced back to the sword, and a voice in his head wondered absently if there were any metal foundries in New York. _Where's a decent Mount Doom when you need one?_

"That was wonderful," Blaine said as he finished his breakfast, setting down his cutlery carefully. "I have to teach the cooks to make these."

Kurt nodded along, barely listening while his mind frantically tried to wrap around the reality that had just come crashing down around him. _Three days._

The troubling thoughts dissipated instantly when Blaine looked up, and Kurt caught the smear of syrup at the corner of his mouth. Chuckling, he tilted his head, watching him fondly. 

Blaine smiled back, his brow twitching. "What is it?"

"You have a little-" He gestured with his hand.

Blaine straightened, and his eyes swirled down, trying to see whatever was caught on his face.

Kurt's nose scrunched up as he laughed, and he reached out a thumb to wipe the syrup away. 

He froze when Blaine's eyes widened suddenly, staring back at him. He couldn't keep his hand from brushing over warm skin, finger slipping into the tiny crook at the edge of Blaine's mouth and down through his stubble before he snatched his hand away. He quickly grabbed a napkin, cleaning the syrup off his fingers and holding it out to Blaine.

"You-" His voice was breathy and barely there, and he offered a hesitant smile. "You should shave, it's getting pretty rough."

Wiping away the last of the syrup, Blaine paused, eyes pinching in confusion. "Shave?"

Kurt's mouth formed an o for a moment, and he mentally kicked himself for not realising sooner. 

"I - you've - you've never shaved," he said, nodding carefully. "That's okay, I can. Show you. Come on." He slid off the bed, ignoring the flutter his stomach gave in protest.

He didn't look back as they went, confident in the sound of footfalls behind him that Blaine had followed. He crouched in front of the bathroom cupboard when he reached it, digging around to find his spare razor.

Blaine watched, eyes just as huge and curious as ever, while Kurt lathered the brush and showed him how to hold the razor. He stopped before every new step to explain, and Blaine listened carefully, unblinking.

"And this will make my face less … fuzzy?" he asked, letting Kurt tilt his chin to the side as he brushed the foam across his cheek.

"Yep," Kurt said, his voice a little too high and uneven. "You don't have to, but if you shave every morning you won't end up… fuzzy."

Blaine nodded, and Kurt did everything in his power to avoid the big hazel eyes that were locked on him while he worked.

He'd always found shaving soothing, something about the ritual and the routine, the scent and the sensation that came with it. He dragged the razor in smooth upward strokes, taking his time and showing Blaine the best angles to use to avoid cutting himself.

His heart was beating too fast, and he wondered absently if Blaine could hear it, it felt so loud. He moved very slowly, hand wrapped around Blaine's fingers as he helped him sweep the razor over skin. "Like that," he said.

Blaine was holding his breath; Kurt could feel it. He saw his throat flash in the silver light reflecting off the tiles, just a quick shot of movement as he swallowed, and held perfectly still once again.

"You can breathe," Kurt whispered.

He saw the way Blaine's lip trembled slightly. "I don't think… I can."

Kurt wet his lips, ignoring the little hiss of his own soft gasp for air. He stepped back quickly, leaving the razor in Blaine's hands and dropping his own to hold onto the bench behind him. 

"Sorry, it gets a little crowded in here," he said.

Blaine's eyelashes fluttered for a moment, and he looked at Kurt with uncertain eyes.

"Just keep going like that," Kurt added quickly, realising he'd left Blaine standing there with no clue. "Just upward - yes, like that."

Blaine's hand resumed its path, and his eyes shifted to the mirror to keep watch of what he was doing.

By the time he'd finished, Kurt felt like he was panting, the room suddenly too muggy and the air too thin. 

"I'm going to - go," he said, sliding towards the door. "You should shower, get dressed. I have to run some errands, but I'll be back before you know it."

He didn't wait for a reply before he slipped out the door, pulling it gently shut behind him and letting his eyes fall closed as he sucked in long, ragged breaths, his mind a whirlwind of _Oh god, oh god, what am I doing?_

While Blaine was in the shower, he gathered their dishes and cleaned up quickly, trying not to think about what he'd just done. He caught himself lingering on the fingertip memory of Blaine's jaw, the way his skin had felt, so warm and so breathtakingly real and _right there_. He closed his eyes and shook himself of the rampant rush of thoughts; the flash of his throat, the way he'd looked at him so close and so clear under long, thick lashes, something dark and unnamable hidden behind eyes that used to look so innocent.

He shook himself, gathering his bag before he headed out and found a cab to deliver the designs for Blaine's suit, with rush instructions for the ball tacked neatly to the cover. The sudden escape into the cacophony and the rush New York cleared his head perfectly, and by the time he was home again, Rachel was back, showered and changed from her morning at the gym, and shouting at someone down the phone.

It took less than ten seconds for Kurt to determine it was her agent, and no, she wouldn't be accepting the new role, she was on _hiatus_. He stifled a smile at her overdramatic irritation, glancing back down the hall to find Blaine's door had closed again.

He blinked, confused, and turned his attention back to Rachel as she hung up. 

"That- that- ungrateful little- URGH!"

"Still trying to negotiate your glorious return?" he asked dryly.

"He just doesn't get it," she groaned, leaning back against the counter. "None of them do. It's just not what I want anymore."

He rubbed her arm, mouth drawing up into a sympathetic frown as he tried not to let his thoughts reflect in his expression.

After a stretch of silence, he figured it'd been long enough to ask. 

"Has Blaine been out?"

"No," she said, surprised. "I thought he went with you?"

Kurt shook his head. "He must be reading."

He took a step forward, but stopped when she placed a hand on his chest, rushing in front of him. 

"I'll go check," she said quickly, spinning and heading down the hall, oblivious to the way Kurt sagged visibly behind her.

She only rapped on the door briefly before she slipped inside, closing it behind her and turning to find Blaine pacing around his room.

"O-oh," she said in quiet surprise, gaze drifting over the strewn array of clothes on the bed, and up to the half-naked prince, shaking and clad only in his sweatpants.

He looked up at the sound of her voice, frightened for a moment before he visibly relaxed. 

"Lady Rachel, I - I - I think I need your help," he said, breathless and panicky.

"Shh, sweetie, what's wrong? What's…" she waved a hand at the bed as she moved to his side. "What's all this?"

"I discovered something last night," he told her quickly, still pacing. "I realised something."

"Oh?" she asked eagerly.

"About the law of my kingdom, the - about how I have to have a betrothed, I have to find my true … _love_ ," he said carefully, "before twelve days have passed. To be crowned."

"I see," she said, confused. "Did you… did you find a princess, or...?"

"That's just the thing," Blaine said, meeting her eyes. "He never actually said anything about…"

"About what?"

He shrugged slightly. "A princess."

Rachel's eyes widened.

"It just said… betrothed."

"God, I love loopholes," she breathed quietly, hands clasped together.

"I'm sorry?"

"Nothing." She waved a dismissive hand. "So you're… looking at clothes?"

"I need to choose," he said. "Something … the _right_ thing. To wear. Today is important. I want to… look right."

She blinked, and studied him for a moment. "Why is today important?"

"I have to…" He drew and released a shaky breath, running both hands through his hair. "I feel like I may be…"

Her hands screwed up into tiny, excited fists. "Oh! Oh. You want to - maybe - talk to Kurt?"

The relief that washed over him was instant, and he shot her a grateful look. "Yes. Thank you."

She made a tiny squealing sound, and he laughed at her excitement as she squeezed his arm and bounced on the spot. 

"Okay, the right clothes. Um." 

She eyed over the items strewn across the bed, all still tagged from the day she'd bought them for him. She was disappointed he'd never worn them, and when Kurt had asked why he still wore the tunic every day he'd only ever said that he feared a princess wouldn't recognise him without it.

Rachel's eyes flashed with delight and silent victory. _Score one for vagueness in favour of fairytale equality._

"So, you want me to help," she narrated for herself, eyeing over pants and jackets. "So you can … talk. To Kurt. About the two of you."

He blushed, ducking his head slightly.

She rocked back on her heels in thought. "Wow. You want to pick out the perfect outfit to talk to a boy. You really are gay."

Blaine blinked, brow knitting together as he gave her a bemused smile.

"This one," she said, plucking a maroon shirt from the bed and handing it to him, and finding a frayed pair of dark grey-blue jeans to add. "And these. With the black boyshorts."

"I'm unsure what underwear has to do with-"

"Trust me," she said, holding up a hand. "Always, _always_ wear nice underwear."

He nodded seriously, accepting her sage advice and clutching the clothes to his chest.

She patted his arm. "Don't worry," she said. "Kurt… he cares about you so much. This is a good… _good_ day." 

With a bright smile, he tucked his chin shyly over the clothes in his arms.

"Do you know what you're going to say?"

Blaine's lips pressed together in a thin line, and he thought carefully for a moment before his face fell. 

"No, I just… I know," he sighed softly, "for the first time in… my _entire_ life, I know what I feel. What I want to do. And in Daltasia, I would know a song already. I would have the right words, I would just be able to reach out and--" He let out an exasperated breath. "But here? I can't. I'm so lost, and I don't know how to do it right. All I want to do is…"

She pressed her hand to her heart suddenly. "You want to kiss Kurt?"

His eyes fell closed, and the word came out on a broken breath; "Yes."

"Oh, sweetheart," she said softly. "It's alright, we kiss here too. It's just a little different… in the," she waved a hand, "lead up."

"I keep-" He stopped, struggling to find the right words. "I feel like we almost do, every time he's close, but we never… do."

"Talk," she said firmly. "Talk to him first. Tell him. You'll both feel a little dizzy, you'll both be a little shy, but that's normal. And the kissing comes after that."

He looked up at her, eyes huge and hopeful. "It does?"

She nodded.

"I'm going to go out," she said, slipping back towards the door. "So you two can… talk."

"Thank you, Rachel," he said softly. "You've been such a good friend to me, I-"

"Hush," she cut him off with a beaming grin. "Get dressed. He's out there waiting."

She turned for the door, stopping halfway when she spotted the familiar lines of the broad, gold-covered book, splayed on his pillow. _Sex and Sexuality._

"Sweetie, how many times have you read that?" she asked.

"Three," he said simply, pulling the maroon shirt over his head and finding the armholes.

She grinned to herself, biting her lip and deciding as she slid out the door that Kurt was going to owe her so, so many favours for this one.

She made her way back down the hall, and Kurt didn't seem to realise until she was gathering her bags that she was heading out again.

"Where are you off to this time?" he asked from his seat on the couch, lingering over a copy of Vogue. "Is he alright?"

"He's fine," she said, pulling on her coat and fixing the collar, flipping her hair over it. "He's just getting dressed, he'll be out for lunch, you two can… talk."

Kurt's brow dropped in confusion.

"I'm off for lunch, myself." She found her phone and sent a quick text. "I'll see you later. Be good!" she called, opening the door. "And be gentle!"

He sat up on the couch, letting his magazine flip shut. "What are you talking abo-" The door closed with a thump, and his shoulders fell. "Great."

Sighing, he pulled off his glasses and dropped them on top of the magazine on the coffee table, rising to his feet.

_What on earth was she talking about?_

"Kurt?"

He turned at the sound of his name, and froze when Blaine walked very slowly out of the hallway, shoulders drawn up and hands buried in his pockets.

Kurt didn't really register that he was openly staring, couldn't feel his mouth hanging slack as his eyes raked over Blaine from head to toe.

The jeans were tight and cut perfectly, hanging over his huge bare feet without covering them. The lines of the denim hugged angles of him Kurt had tried so long not to think about, the firm lines of muscle moving up both thighs, and the waistband hung just below his hips, slightly frayed and looking like he'd worn them a thousand times before. He'd pushed both sleeves of the maroon shirt up to his elbows, and it was loose enough to look casual, but still clung perfectly to the hint of what was underneath.

Kurt blinked rapidly, stunned and not quite able to move. He'd seen Blaine in normal clothes, in his sweats, so many times - it shouldn't have been anything new, but it was. It was new. The prince he'd somehow managed to rescue from a street fight one random night had suddenly stepped into his living room looking like a shy boyfriend, blushing and sweet and not sure what to say the morning after.

His heart froze in his chest at the word that skipped across his thoughts. _Boyfriend._

_Don't. Stop it._

"You look-" he breathed, still a little lost.

Blaine seemed to curl in on himself slightly, and Kurt tried not to laugh, tried not to smile from ear to ear at how ridiculously gorgeous just that simple act was; the timid side of him, the tiny embarrassed lift of his chest and the hands that were shoved in his pockets.

"These are… difficult." Blaine lifted his arms, pushing his sleeves back up where they kept falling down. "I think they're a little too long."

Kurt let out a soft breath of laughter. "It doesn't matter," he said, drinking in the sight of him again. "You look wonderful."

Blaine entire expression changed, lighting up like someone flipped a switch, like the day in the library. That smile made Kurt's heart ache in his chest, sore from beating just a little too hard.

"We should… um," Kurt said suddenly, shaking himself and trying to regain his composure.

"Kurt, can we…" Blaine took a very careful, steadying breath. "Talk?"

Nodding slowly, Kurt turned back to the lounge and found his seat again, smiling as Blaine wandered over and sank down into the couch beside him.

 _This isn't awkward at all,_ he thought.

Blaine seemed to be working himself up to something, eyes flicking back and forth over his own hands and his lap, fingers flexing in the fading morning sunlight. 

"I… " he began hesitantly. "I've learned so much, this last week. There's been so much I never even imagined could be real. But I've seen it, now. And this place…" he breathed deeply. "This place is more than anything I ever dreamed of."

A waved of cold rushed through Kurt's veins, and he stilled as he listened, heart stuttering like someone had plunged it in ice. _Oh god,_ he realised. _Oh god, he's saying goodbye._

"Blaine-" he interrupted quickly. "Don't."

Blaine stopped, brow drawing tight in alarm.

"I know you have to go," Kurt said, keeping his eyes down. "I know some … magical power or something is supposed to whisk you away friday night, and that's…"

 _Listen to what you're saying,_ an angry voice demanded in his head. _This is ridiculous._

"Kurt," Blaine said, the clip of his name harsh on the air, drawing him back. "I want you to understand, please. There's so much I know now. So much I didn't even think about before. And I do have to go back, but-"

Kurt met his eyes hesitantly, heart screaming in his chest. _Don't say it, please._

"I want …" Blaine sighed, eyes falling shut as he struggled to find the right words. He rubbed his hands over his face. "I want all of it. I want… happily ever after. I want you to have that, too. And we-"

"Blaine," Kurt cut him off with a disbelieving laugh. "I know you're going to find your… princess. And go back to your fairytale, and it all comes back around to happily ever after for you. But it's not real, here."

Blaine stared at him, eyes clouded and hurt. "Of course it's real. It's how it's meant to… work out, for everybody."

"Not here," Kurt said with an irritated huff, pulling himself up off the couch. "Here there's divorce, and couples counselling, and if you're lucky she won't take your crown as alimony."

"Alimony? Kurt, I don't understand," Blaine pleaded helplessly, hands dropping and laying open in his lap. "Why are you saying that?"

"Because it's true," he said sadly. "Real life isn't a fairytale, Blaine. The damsels in distress have to save themselves. And prince charming doesn't just show up on your doorstep."

"I was on the street," Blaine whispered, face falling.

"What?"

"I wasn't on the doorstep," he said, looking up. 

Kurt felt a sharp stab of guilt at the tears welling in Blaine's eyes. 

"I was on the street."

"Blaine, I care about you," Kurt said gently, dropping back onto the couch to take both of his hands. "I just don't want to see some girl hurt you, or break you. I don't want you to lose everything because of some daydream about happy endings. You're so much more than that."

Blaine sniffed softly, forcing a smile. "Still not enough, though."

Kurt let his eyes drift shut, and he thumbed gently over Blaine's hands before they pulled away sharply.

"I'm should go," Blaine insisted, slipping off the couch. "I should … read. Learn more."

"Blaine-"

"No, it's… I'm sorry," he said firmly, meeting Kurt's eyes. "It's my fault. I still have so much to learn."

Kurt's mouth pulled into a thin line, just a curl of pained sympathy as he tried to think of something he could say to make it easier.

_So much for gentle._

But it was never going to be easy, he knew that. Learning about the reality of love was the one thing he couldn't soften for someone as beautiful and innocent as a fairytale prince.

He watched him go, watched him slip away down the corridor, suddenly seeming so much smaller than he ever had before.

Hours later, when Blaine hadn't emerged again for lunch, he decided it was best to leave him be. He knew Blaine probably needed space, and time to think, but it didn't stop Kurt from worrying, from pacing around and cleaning things that were already clean. 

Somewhere between tidying the spotless kitchen and reorganising his book case, he heard the front door open and close. 

"I'm back!" Rachel announced, brandishing a bottle of wine. "You didn't answer your phone. How is everything?"

Kurt met her bright eyes with a soft, sad smile.

Her face fell. "What happened?"

"He's been in his room for the day," he told her. "We talked about … love. He still believes in the fairytale and the happily ever after, I think I… maybe shattered that illusion for him. I feel awful," he sighed, dropping onto the couch and burying his face in his hands. "But it had to happen some time, right?"

" _Kurt_ ," she said, her voice low and hesitant. "What did you say?"

He gave her a weak shrug. "He was talking about happily ever after, and I just… I told him the truth. It's not real. If he keeps believing it, keeps thinking that's how it's going to be, he's just going to get even more hurt in the end."

"Oh, Kurt," she sighed, shoulders dropping. Her eyes fluttered closed for a moment, like she was going to cry.

"What?" he asked, suddenly stung. "You asked me to be gentle, that's as gentle as I could manage, okay?"

She glared at him briefly, turning to rest the wine on the counter, dropping her bag on a stool. 

"Wait," she twisted around, "he's in his room?"

Kurt nodded.

"He hasn't come out since you… said that?"

"No, I figured he needed space," Kurt said, eyes wandering over the perfectly neatened coffee table.

"I love you, you know that," she said, stripping off her coat quickly and throwing it aside. "But sometimes you're a fucking idiot."

He stiffened in surprise at the cuss, and watched her stride down the hallway out of sight.

She didn't knock on the door, just slipped inside, letting it shut behind her.

"Blaine?"

He was curled by the head of the bed, knees drawn up to his chest. The new clothes had been discarded on the dresser, and he was back in his sweats with his tunic spread over his knees, his head resting gently against it. 

His gaze was empty, lost and unfocused, and staring at nothing in particular.

"Blaine?" she asked again, and this time he stirred, looked at her for a moment before his head dropped back down.

"Kurt told me what he said," she offered gently, moving to the bedside and dropping to sit behind him. She rested a hand on his back. "He doesn't really believe that, you know."

"I don't know what to believe," he said softly.

"Love is real," she said firmly, moving her hand to his shoulder and leaning to catch his eye. "I promise."

"Why does he… I don't understand," he sighed, letting his eyes drift shut.

She stroked at his hair gently. "Nobody's ever loved him like you do."

He straightened, looking at her over his shoulder at last, his red eyes suddenly huge and surprised.

She shook her head sadly. "He's had people say that they do, but they always left."

He blinked for a moment, trying to wrap his mind around what she was telling him. 

"Just like you're leaving in three days," she offered gently.

Blaine's mouth fell open slightly with a silent gasp.

"He's just trying to make sure he doesn't get hurt again," she told him, rubbing his arm. "You didn't say it, did you?"

Blaine swallowed roughly, closing his eyes. "I didn't get the chance, there was so much…"

"I know." She rested her chin on his shoulder, still stroking his arm comfortingly. "But you need to. Because he's not going to believe it until he hears it."

He nodded.

Her gaze fell to the tunic, and she reached to run her fingers gently over the velvety fabric. "Do you want to go home?"

When his eyes fell to the crest, he smiled sadly. "No."

She felt a rush of relief, dropping both arms to hug around his waist, pressing herself against his back.

"I don't know what to do," he breathed, and she could hear the helplessness bleeding through on the sound of his voice.

"Shh," she said softly, kissing his temple and settling down again to hold on to him.

"It's alright," she said, and smiled slowly as the idea began to take shape. 

"I have a plan."


	9. Chapter 9

Wednesday morning, Kurt woke up, and waited. 

He showered, went through his routine, made his coffee, and hovered over the steam of his cup, staring down the hall. Waiting.

The door never opened.

It was Rachel's voice that drew him out of his reverie, and he turned to find she'd fixed him with a sympathetic gaze.

"He needed a place to think," she said. "I took him to stay with a friend, late last night."

Kurt's mouth dropped open to protest immediately, but she held up a hand.

"He's fine."

"But-"

"Kurt," she said, her tone serious. "He's alright. He just needs space, and time. He's trying so hard, and for some of us, it's not easy to accept that fairytales don't always come true."

Huffing out a sigh, Kurt let his eyes drift closed. "It's my fault."

She stayed quiet for a moment, eyeing him carefully.

"I called Kida's," she told him. "They're sending his suit over there. He'll be at the ball tomorrow night."

"I only had three days left," Kurt whispered, stirring his drink and staring at it with unfocused eyes. "And he's gone already."

"You'll see him tomorrow," she insisted, moving closer to pat at his shoulder reassuringly. "I _promise_. For now, there are things he just needs to process."

"Where did you take him, exactly? Off to stay with some… some… _princess_?" The word came out heavy and sharp, full of the venom he'd always kept under before.

She eyed him sadly for a moment.

"What?"

"He's been gone _one_ night, and look at you," she said, folding her hands neatly together on the counter.

"I'm just-" He sighed heavily, slumping. "I'm angry. At myself. I'm sorry."

"I know," she said. "You care about him so much. And it hurts, I know. You broke his heart."

Kurt flinched, fighting back the bitter parade of voices in his head.

"But you didn't know you were doing it," she added carefully. "And in the end, it's a good thing. He needed to know what it felt like, to appreciate how it's _going_ to feel."

"I didn't…" Kurt's voice trailed off in exasperation. "I didn't mean to. I was just trying to explain, to make it easier, to stop it from being worse when-"

"I know, I know," she said, cutting him off. "This is _good_ , Kurt. It always hurts worse the first time, you know that. And with any luck, it'll be the last."

He let out a quiet, humourless laugh and sipped his coffee. "You really think he's going to get through the rest of his life with just - one heartbreak?"

She smiled, meeting his eyes. "Well that's up to you, now, isn't it?"

Stunned into silence, he watched her spin on her heels and disappear down the hall.

He wondered absently if her sudden penchant for talking in riddles was a byproduct of spending too much time with a fairytale prince.

As the day went on, time seemed to slow down to a near standstill, just an unending series of quick glances to the clock to find bare minutes had passed instead of hours. 

Without Blaine, without work, he was left to himself and to his permanently, perfectly clean apartment, and the great gnawing lack of anything that might occupy his time. After the fourth call to Kida's to check on the gowns and suits, he'd been given strict instructions to not call back lest violent things happen to his person.

By the evening he'd essentially perfected the art of pacing, varying between the hallway and the living room, reading random magazines and picking up and putting down the phone too many times before he remembered Blaine didn't have a phone number.

When night fell, he stumbled down the hallway one last time on the same familiar path, shoulders slumped and face drawn into a permanent frown as he stopped between the two doors.

He glanced at his bedroom for a moment, blinking. Without a second thought, he turned around.

If he'd had the energy, he probably would have scolded himself, called himself pathetic or sad for doing it. But he didn't have the strength, and he didn't care. Just the warm, trigger-memory of scent was enough to get him through the night as he curled into the blankets of Blaine's bed, and drifted off to sleep.

He was sure, when he woke again, that he'd been dreaming. He remembered sparks of sickly yellow light, weaving through the darkness, holding him against his will. He heard his voice crying out, calling brokenly for Blaine, and shook suddenly with a shudder at the fading memory.

A vague sense of danger lingered at the back of his mind, and he sat bolt upright in bed, blankets coiled around his waist.

There was nobody there, no lingering malevolent presence. The shadows loomed innocently enough, their shapes twisting in the morning light to look less and less like silhouettes. He glanced quickly to the mirror, narrowing his eyes, unable to shake the deep-set feeling of unease it brought him.

If anybody had asked why he stumbled out of bed at that moment and threw a sheet over the vanity to obscure the reflection, he couldn't have given them any kind of sane answer.

The morning trickled by at an agonising pace, just as painfully stunted as the day before. His suit was delivered early, along with Rachel's dress, and he waited in the kitchen, hovering silently over his morning coffee until she came home.

She was barely through the door before he jerked to attention. 

"Did you see him?"

When she met his eyes, she softened instantly. "Yes. He's fine."

Kurt nodded and let his gaze fall to the countertop.

"Now, you need to stop," she said firmly.

He blinked. "Stop?"

"This," she said, waving a hand at him. "It's very sad, and tonight we're going to ball, and balls are not sad, balls are _happy_."

He snorted into his drink. "I don't know, I've seen some pretty s-"

"Kurt!" she cut him off in mock outrage, slapping playfully at his arm.

Laughing, he rocked on his stool for a moment before he straightened and shot her a grateful sideways glance. He hadn't really laughed in days.

"Come on," she said with a nudge. "We have salon appointments booked all day long, because I'm fabulous, and you're fabulous, and we can at least do the world the service of being fabulous together."

He nodded, chuckling quietly as he took another mouthful of coffee and winced. "Can we get some decent coffee first?"

"That's probably a good idea," she agreed, pressing both hands to his shoulders and giving him a little push as he slipped down from the stool. "Go! Let's go get beautiful."

As they made their way outside, he couldn't help but feel that the world had grown smaller, somehow. Even in the honking, caterwauling orchestra of New York City, everything had telescoped down to little moments inside a glass tumbler, pockets of movement and sound. He wondered why it left such a bitter sting in the back of his throat, an old familiar hollow drag that lingered at the periphery of every quiet pause.

Halfway through his hair treatment, he realised why it felt so familiar and so foreign all at once. 

This was how it felt before. 

Before Blaine, before that night on the street when his head told him to run and his heart made him stay.

He shut his eyes and tried to relax in his seat, tried to forget about everything else. The ball was tonight. Blaine would be there. Everything was going to be alright.

When they made it home again, Rachel disappeared in a flurry of powder and the trailing scent of product, her brown hair spiralling over her neck in ringlet waves, clipped either side with faded gold pins that sparkled in the filtered late-afternoon light. She dragged the giant folded box of her new gown along with her, and Kurt tried not to laugh aloud at the image of his tiny roommate pulling along a box that was almost the same size as she was.

Gathering the pieces of his neatly packaged suit, he wandered down the hall soon after to get dressed.

The suit was just as stunning as he'd imagined it would be; the lines of his pants flawless and smooth, fitting snugly to his legs and accentuating the curve of his thighs. The boots were dark leather, buckled at each side with silver and thick interwoven woven straps, matching the tones of his belt. He pulled his shirt and jacket on carefully, drawing and clipping together the patterns of fine chain mail across the front and slipping his fingers under the silvery lines of his collar, making sure it stayed in place, cupping his neck and opening at the front to expose his throat and a long, triangular dip of pale skin.

As he watched himself in the mirror, he felt his skin prickle again, a fleeting sense of discomfort that came from the stillness of his reflection. His gaze fell to the suit, to the lines of black and silver, and he wondered how something so simple could make him look like he'd walked right out of Daltasia himself.

A smile curled at the edge of his mouth at the reminder of Blaine, the recollection of the suit he'd designed for him and how it might look in real life. 

With a deep, careful breath, he steadied himself on the dresser, eyes fluttering closed as he tried to slow his racing pulse.

_Everything is going to be alright._

He made his way out to the living room in long strides, and it was only another minute before the rustle of fabric caught his attention. He turned to watch Rachel glide effortlessly down the hall, shoulders drawn up in excitement and arms spread wide.

His eyes flashed with delight as he smiled and tilted his head to admire his work. Rachel was a vision in scarlet red, elegant and glittering with finely crafted beads and jewels down the front of her strapless gown. 

"Well," she said, twirling on the spot and putting on a posh accent. "You certainly do exquisite work, good tailor!"

He gave her a dramatic bow. "Ah, the elegance is yours, my Lady," he said, playing along with a tone of deep sincerity. 

His heart stuttered weakly in the moment, shocked at how much his own voice had suddenly reminded him of Blaine.

She watched him with a knowing smile. 

"Soon," she offered gently, and he hated her a little for knowing him too well.

With a sudden, sharp breath, he turned and propped his arm, fist resting loose against his side as he offered his elbow. "Shall we?"

Hooking her arm through his, she gave him a quick nod. "I think I'm in the mood for a fairytale."

The car was already downstairs waiting for them, and he helped her in as carefully as he could, lifting the shimmering sweep of red fabric over the edge of the seat before he strode around to the other side and slipped in next to her.

When they arrived, he found himself reeling, struck numb and standing still on the leading carpet outside the ballroom, blinking stupidly at the swirling, glittering masses. Every colour he'd ever imagined bled together in a sea of endless grace, sweeping across the polished floors under the rich hanging purple and gold banners that trickled down from the ceiling either side of the room in velvety waves. The giant floor-to-ceiling mirrored walls made the ballroom look so much bigger than it had ever been, stretching out infinitely in front of him.

Two women moved past him carefully, skirting around him where he blocked the open doorway. They were both decked in finely cut suits of royal blue and forest green, emblazoned with the bronze crests of imaginary kingdoms, holding hands and laughing as they went inside. He watched them go, mouth still agape and brow twitching in shock and disbelief at the sheer enormity of all of it. _This is real. This isn't a dream._

He didn't feel Rachel take his hand, but still his body swept along with the pull, wandering through the archway and over the rich byzantium carpet strewn across the entrance, embroidered with gold ribbon in the symbol of a lion.

When his mouth finally snapped shut, he swallowed against the dryness of his throat, letting his eyes fall closed for a long moment before he opened them again to stare at the spectacle spread out before him. It was everything he'd dreamed it would be, and so much more.

The music was sharp and regal; classical piano and the grandeur of strings in harmony, filtering across the room above the endless chatter of voices. It wasn't until Rachel squeezed his hand too tightly that he looked down at her, his eyes still glassy and bright with awe.

She smiled softly, her mouth turning up at the edges in a way that was both comforting and exciting all at once as she nodded to the door.

When he turned, he felt the world fall away in an instant.

The sound of the music, the hum of conversation, all of it drowned out as his heart thundered in his chest. His lips parted, and closed again, eyes flickering but never fully closing as he watched Blaine walk through the archway.

The suit was perfect. Beyond that, it was so very _Blaine_. Every part of Blaine; from the wide-eyed innocent prince he'd met two weeks ago to the stumbling, blushing boy that had wandered down his hallway so many mornings, to the sweet and gentle man that had held his hands and danced with him in the park. 

His looked so much larger, his shoulders so much broader in the strong lines of the charcoal jacket, cut with lighter shades of grey trim and soft tones of silver. Kurt couldn't help but smile at the slight shadow on his face, not dark enough to be stubble but strong enough to make him suddenly so much older than before.

But he wasn't alone.

It was a sharp blow to Kurt's senses, a sudden rush of awareness that came crashing over him like a tidal; the realisation that there was an arm linked through Blaine's.

She was petite and very graceful, her arm perched delicately in the crook of Blaine's elbow and her head tipped to the side to offer their invitation to the host, her face obscured. 

As they moved, Kurt studied her carefully, his brow dropping and breath drawing in on small, unsteady bursts. Light splashed over them again, and he caught the twist of her blonde hair, pulled back into delicately woven braids above her ears and sparkling with small silver leaves that matched the long embroidered vines on her ruffled dress of deep egyptian blue. She tucked a shoulder against Blaine's arm, leaning into him when she straightened.

Kurt's jaw fell slack again, and this time he wasn't sure if he let out the tiny startled sound or he'd just imagined it. He wasn't sure if this was actually happening.

When Blaine looked up, Kurt was sure his heart stopped. 

He'd seen Blaine brighten instantly so many times before, always quick to smile and open his eyes so wide with wonder at every little thing, but this was different. Blaine stared back at him, his face an unreadable, stunning mask of something so much bigger than Kurt could comprehend in the dizzying rush of the moment. His soft, pink lips were parted and trembling slightly as he gave Kurt a tiny nod, and lead his lady over at last.

Kurt fought to swallow against the lump in his throat, trying to compose himself, trying for his strongest, calmest smile as they grew closer.

He settled his gaze on her with a gentle huff of breath. "Quinn."

She smiled at him broadly, eyes thinning with delight. "Kurt."

Her voice was soft and warm, laced with telling fondness. She uncurled her arm from Blaine's quickly, and leaned in to seize Kurt in a hug.

Blaine watched hesitantly, eyes flicking back and forth between them before he glanced to Rachel and caught her tiny little nod of encouragement.

"It's so good to see you, you look wonderful," Quinn said, glancing up and down to admire Kurt's suit.

"Ah, yes, and you look as beautiful as ever," he replied, ignoring the tremble in his hands.

"Lady Rachel, you look more stunning than any princess I have seen," Blaine said with a small, adoring smile, reaching out to take her hand and press a kiss to it.

Rachel's nose scrunched as she smiled and wiggled slightly. "Why, thank you, Blaine. You look very handsome."

"You do," Kurt said softly, voice barely above a whisper. He cleared his throat quickly as Blaine glanced at him. "I mean, you … look wonderful."

Blaine smiled, eyes shimmering brightly with something Kurt couldn't quite place. 

"As do you," Blaine said breathlessly. "I … you look …"

Quinn patted at Blaine's arm, trying to save the moment. "We should dance," she suggested gently. "It is a ball, after all."

Blaine nodded, lips pressing into a thin line as he drew himself back and held out an open palm in polite invitation.

Gathering her dress in one hand, she took his with the other and let him lead her across the floor.

In their wake, Kurt let his chest fall as the air rushed out of his lungs, and it felt like his ribcage was caving in.

"What is it?" Rachel asked, her voice tinted with a peculiar tone, like she was waiting for something.

Kurt barely noticed. "He's… I never thought that he would…"

"What?"

"I guess-" Kurt huffed out bitter laugh. "If anybody were a fairytale princess, of course it would be Quinn Fabray."

"Oh, Kurt," Rachel said with a sigh, looping their arms together again and pulling him along as the music picked up. "Dance with me. Maybe it just needs a minute to sink in."

"What does?" Kurt asked numbly, spinning with her guiding hands and lettering her line them up to dance.

"Just think for a minute," she said calmly, pulling him along into the waltz. "It's all there, you just need to put it together."

He stepped in time with the music, the sway of the dance coming as naturally to him as it always had - mindless and easy. He blinked at her, meeting her searching eyes with confusion.

"I'm sure it'll hit you, any moment now," she said lightly, almost teasingly. "Aaaaaany moment now."

Kurt tipped his head back, growling in frustration. "Can you stop being so frickin' cryptic?"

As the song came to an end and the next struck up, he felt a warm hand on his arm and turned in surprise. 

Quinn lifted her brow suggestively. "May I cut in?"

"Oh," Kurt said. "Of - of course."

Rachel reached out a hand to where Blaine lingered behind them, and curtsied.

"Your highness," she said sweetly, and he laughed softly as he accepted her invitation. 

"Thank you, so much, Lady Rachel. In lieu of a princess, it was all too kind of you," he bowed to Quinn before he said very carefully, "to lend me yours tonight."

Kurt froze.

With a faint air of mockery, Rachel twirled a half-circle and into Blaine's arms, leading him away.

Blinking rapidly, Kurt tried to form a word and quickly lost it again, only feel the rush of blinding awareness strike him like lightning. 

"Oh… my god."

Quinn smirked at him softly, sliding her hand into his and draping the other over his shoulder. He took her waist very slowly as they began to dance, steps stilted and awkward for a moment while his brain frantically scrambled to meet up with his body.

"Rachel said you weren't quite yourself lately," she began, her voice calming and pleasant under the wave of the violins. "After the last two days with Blaine, I can see why."

"He was -" Kurt's mind stumbled again, realisation crashing around inside his skull at a dizzying pace. "He was … with you. And you were… you and… ohhh my… I…"

She laughed softly.

"I'm so sorry," he said, trying to regain his composure with deep, steady breaths. "I had no idea. I just - I've been so … caught up lately. I never even asked her. I can't believe she didn't tell me. I can't believe I didn't even _ask_."

"She doesn't mind," Quinn said. "Actually, I think she was grateful. It's … new. It's new for both of us, and so much could go wrong so fast, between her career and… Well. I think the peace of nobody knowing was a comfort."

He nodded carefully, hand twitching at her waist as they danced. "So you two are-?"

"Together," she said. "Yes."

"Oh," Kurt breathed softly. "I…"

She laughed softly at his hesitation. "It just happened," she explained, suddenly seeming overwhelmed herself. "I was tired of my job, tired of… the _entire_ legal system and having to pander to every belligerent asshole that walked through the doors with a trust fund and a sob story about how," she tipped her head back and forth, "they were the victim, and they were the wronged party. I couldn't do it anymore, so… I quit."

His brow lifted in surprise. He already knew about her time at Yale Law, and the last he'd heard she was working for some wealthy high-rise law firm, but he'd had no idea she'd wound up in New York.

"And then," she gave a tiny shrug, just a swift rise and fall of her shoulders as she looked across the ballroom, "there she was."

He stared at her, his gaze soft but unsure, brow pinching together.

She smiled at him knowingly. "Sometimes, very rarely, but _sometimes_ \- it doesn't matter what you knew before. What you thought you knew. Sometimes, it's just that simple."

"There she was," he repeated, voice distant as his memory drew him back to the one night that now felt like so, so long ago, when he'd stopped at the sound of a loud, pained cry on a dark street.

_There he was._

Kurt tried to pull his mind back into focus, to find something to ground him in the new reality sinking all around him. _Quinn and Rachel._

A part of him suddenly wondered how he never saw it coming. 

It had always been there. They'd been two sides of the same coin for so long, warped by high school inexperience and drama, but somehow always there on the other side of the mirror when they needed each other.

When the naive hierarchy gave way to the _family_ of all of them that sophomore year, everything had changed. Suddenly they were no longer pins on a popularity map, but human beings. Crying, loving, breakable human beings, who couldn't be denied with the wave of a dismissive hand, who left sudden, real, painful consequences in the wake of a brutal word or the sharp crush of a slushy to the face.

They were real.

_This is real._

"So you're… I mean, you're looking for another position or-?" he asked slowly.

"I …" She seized a breath, eyes wide with playful faux-panic as she laughed, "I have _absolutely_ no idea. It's all new, now."

He nodded as he listened, settling in to the dance.

"But I think that's what was missing," she went on. "Why I needed to leave, why I need to keep going forward. Why I need her."

He felt his body ease at the shy admission. Something in her voice was just as frightened as he'd felt, just as scared of all of this, but there was a strength underneath it that he couldn't deny.

"She's your new beginning," he offered lightly.

Quinn's knowing smile returned, and she met his eyes with a look that seemed so much deeper, and brighter than before. 

"No," she said. "I think… she's my happy ending."

"May I-"

He jolted at the intrusion of another, deeper voice, realising the song had changed again. A voice floated through the air over the trickle of the piano, singing words he couldn't quite make out.

Blaine was there when he turned around, his huge eyes breathtakingly dark and beautiful as he fixed Kurt with an unblinking stare. 

Kurt's heart lodged in his throat at the look of open, unabashed longing on Blaine's face, and he gasped softly when Blaine reached out, and offered his hand.

"May I have this dance?"


	10. Chapter 10

"May I have this dance?"

Kurt stared, frozen to the spot. He tried to breathe as the music trickled over them like water, sweet and swaying on the melody of a piano and violins.

Quinn's hands slipped away from him as she swept back. She gave him a tiny, crooked smile when she turned, brushing past the prince and into the arms of her girlfriend.

Stupefied, Kurt watched them slide away gracefully, watched Rachel coil her arms around Quinn's waist and link both hands at the small of her back, resting her head against her shoulder while they moved in time to the music.

He blinked, trying to stay calm as he pulled his gaze back to Blaine. "I-"

"Please," Blaine asked brokenly, voice cracking and barely audible as his open palm lingered in the air.

Kurt's heart thundered painfully in his chest at the pleading tone in Blaine's voice.

"Of course," he said, letting out a shaky breath and reaching to take Blaine's hand.

Blaine was leading him deeper into the sea of swirling colour and glitter, so slowly it felt like they were gliding underwater. When Blaine stopped, he turned and crowded in to Kurt's body, warm and bright and suddenly _right there_ to hold on to, to touch, after so long. 

Kurt tried to ground himself, to fight against the dizzy cascade of what was happening to him, clinging tightly to everything that he'd felt so lost without the last two days.

_This is real._

Blaine slipped a strong arm around his waist, and Kurt felt a shiver shoot up his spine, prickling the hairs at the back of his neck. Blaine drew their joined hands closer in, let Kurt settle his arm against him, curled around Blaine's bicep, and they swayed to the smooth tones of a woman's voice floating across the room.

Blaine was real, Kurt told himself. No matter where he came from, or what existed out there, or what didn't, Blaine was real, and warm, and in his arms. Everything he ever wanted was under his fingertips.

Somehow, Blaine knew. Somehow he felt what Kurt was thinking, and bowed their heads together as they moved, hand squeezing lightly at Kurt's back, holding him closer. "I…"

Kurt's breath was ragged and uneven, and he slowly tried to calm it, closing his eyes. 

"You-" he tried to say, attempting to ease the moment. "You don't have your sword?"

Blaine smiled. "No," he said. "I left it at home. It didn't feel right. I just needed one night… without it." He let out a slow breath. "One night where it didn't matter. Where nothing else… mattered."

Pressing his lips together tightly, Kurt nodded. His eyes were huge, bright and impossibly blue under the shifting lights, and Blaine stared at them helplessly, his brow drawn in silent longing.

"Kurt, I wanted … to tell you," he began, voice thick with emotion.

"Tell me… what?"

"I didn't-" he laughed softly, "I didn't know how to say it. And you didn't know what I was trying to say."

Kurt wet his lips carefully. "What are you talking about?"

"The night I left," Blaine said slowly. "I wanted to … to wear the right clothes, to … say the right things. I wanted to tell you. But we got … confused."

"Oh," Kurt breathed, flinching at the stab of guilt that shot through him. "I'm so, so sorry Blaine. I didn't want to hurt you, I-"

"I know," Blaine said, nodding gently. "But I learned so much that night, I figured out so much."

Kurt smiled weakly. He hated himself for being the reason, for being what made Blaine more human, more easily broken. 

_You're going to break him if you try to hold on,_ a voice said, and a tiny curl of doubt twined itself together in the back of his mind.

"I never realised just how easy it is to make a mistake," Blaine told him. "To hear something that was never really there."

Fixing him with a confused gaze, Kurt tried not to shift awkwardly in his arms, tried to move in time with the music and not his own stuttering heart as they were swept along with the undercurrent of the crowd.

"I heard 'princess'," Blaine explained. "When Sebastian said betrothed. Because that's all I'd ever been told. Been taught. The Prince finds his Princess. They live happily ever after"

"That's the fairytale," Kurt said with a faint, hollow tone.

"I thought that was what I wanted," he went on. "I didn't know I was allowed to want something else."

Sucking in a sharp breath, Kurt felt his hands quiver, and coiled his fist tighter into the fabric of Blaine's jacket.

"I know now, in this world - in your world - that love isn't easy," Blaine said carefully.

Kurt let his eyes fall, avoiding his gaze. _You're going to break him._

"I know that it's," Blaine drew a deep breath, eyes falling closed and opening again as he spoke passionately, "It's not easy, and there are no … spontaneous love songs, and that you don't just meet somebody and fall in love, here."

With a nod, Kurt let his eyes trail over Blaine's shoulder, unfocused and lost.

"But I did."

Kurt looked back to him as soon as the words landed. "Wh- what?"

" _Kurt_ ," he said, leaning in closer.

A sharp flare of panic rose in Kurt's chest, fleeting and broken and begging to run.

 _Run,_ his head cried.

"It's warm," he said quickly. "In here, it's too hot, I need -" He pulled out of Blaine's arms, hands raised and trembling. "I need to go outside."

 _Stop,_ his heart cried. _No. Wait. Please wait._

"Kurt, wait," Blaine reached out for him, but he was already running, ducking between the twirling bodies and heading for the balcony. 

He burst out into the cool night air, sliding past rows of antique mirrors draped with woven streamers of violet and gold. The chill struck him like an anvil, weighing him down, and he choked back the fear in his throat.

"Kurt!"

His body stopped and balanced, catching himself at the sharp loss of momentum. His heart was too loud, deafening like thunder in his ears.

He turned around, holding up a hand. "I can't-"

"Why?" Blaine asked in a shattered voice. "Kurt, please. Tell me why. What do you want?"

"I want-" Kurt choked out. "You. _You_ are what I want. But I can't, Blaine. I can't be the one that breaks you."

Blaine stared at him, mouth open, blinking in shock.

"I don't believe in happily ever after," Kurt's voice was deep, and wet with tears that hadn't reached his eyes, "I can't steal yours."

"Kurt," Blaine said, but now he was smiling, eyes huge and sad but still so bright. "You don't see?"

"See what?"

"Do you remember the night you came to my aid," he asked, eyes searching. "On the street?"

Kurt was shaking, hands twitching at his sides as Blaine closed the gap between them. 

"Yes."

"Brave knight," Blaine whispered with a laugh, and Kurt smiled around a stuttered breath at the familiar words.

"Do you remember the first thing I said to you, after I asked if you were alright?" Blaine asked.

Kurt felt moisture prickle at his eyes as his breathing grew more ragged. He needed to brace himself, steady himself on something, and his fists curled into Blaine's jacket before he could stop it, clinging desperately, holding on.

He looked up to the faint scar, pink and pale along Blaine's hairline, the permanent reminder that this wasn't a fairytale anymore. Blaine was real, and human, and flawed just like him.

"Do you remember?" Blaine asked again.

Kurt shook his head.

"I said," Blaine breathed, hands lifting to rest at Kurt's waist. " _You saved me._ "

Kurt's eyes fell as he bowed slightly, eyes closing, trying to calm his heart. "I remember."

"Your fairytales," Blaine said dipping slightly to catch Kurt's gaze. "They always talk about the same thing. The gallant prince who… who comes to the rescue."

Caught in the impossibly bright, golden hues of his eyes, Kurt didn't feel Blaine's hand lift up until it was brushing over his face, thumb sliding along his cheekbone, warm fingers cradling his jaw.

He stopped breathing.

"I'm not your Prince, Kurt," Blaine whispered. "You're mine."

Kurt gasped softly, hands tightening around fistfuls of fabric. "But you-" he uttered. "You have to - you need to find-"

"It's you," Blaine said. "It was always you."

Kurt rocked back under the tidal, the sudden perfect weight of Blaine's mouth on his, and lost himself there as his senses were flooded with warmth and exquisite sensation. His spine curved on instinct, arms wrapping around Blaine's body and holding on to his shoulders as Blaine pulled them flush together, tongue pushing into Kurt's mouth, exploring him slowly in an aching, needy rhythm.

Blaine's hands snaked up, drawing lines through Kurt's hair, holding him tight and keeping them locked together as he kissed him harder, kissed him for every time they almost had before.

When they pulled apart, Kurt stumbled and bumped against him, dazed and staring down at the curve of Blaine's dark pink swollen lips. He let out a tiny whimper, sealing their mouths together again quickly as Blaine's hand dropped to press against his chest.

Coiling his fingers around Blaine's wrist, he let his other hand slide over the back of Blaine's jacket to cup his neck, tiling his head back and kissing him deeper, desperate to stay here, to make sure it wouldn't end. 

As he broke away again, Blaine let out a shuddering breath, his eyes fluttering open slowly as Kurt's nose brushed against his.

He flexed his fingers where they lay over Kurt's heart, and swallowed carefully, dipping to press another tiny, ghosting kiss to his lips.

"Blaine, I-" Kurt lost his words, lightheaded in the aftermath.

Blaine met his stare, unblinking. "Marry me."

Kurt drew a sharp breath, eyes blowing wide. "Wh-"

"Please," Blaine breathed, gaze falling to Kurt's mouth again as he leaned in and pressed another chaste kiss to the corner of his lips.

"Because-" Kurt's mind stumbled around the cacophony of thoughts that was spinning like a whirlwind in his head. "Because you have- you need a betrothed? To go back?"

"No," he said, adding very carefully; "I … I'm not going back."

"Blaine-"

"Please, listen to me," he rushed, "My step-mother is a good Queen, she rules fairly. They don't need me. I can stay here, with you," he stopped to breathe, to try and make sure Kurt understood what he meant. "I can't leave you."

Kurt's mouth opened and closed, working around sound, trying to find the right shape to match the tangle of words on his tongue. "But- you can't- can you do that?"

"I just did," Blaine said, smiling.

"You're staying." He heard himself say, knowing he wouldn't believe it if he didn't say it out loud.

"I'm staying," Blaine agreed, eyes lowering again as he leaned in and drew Kurt's body to his. "Marry me?"

He let his mouth fall open again, lingering on the word a moment too long before he let it rise up from his heart. "Ye-"

Pain flared in his chest, violent and sudden as he was torn from Blaine's arms and met the stone wall with an sickening _crack!_

Surging with dizzy, blinding pain and body-shaking nausea, he struggled frantically, twisting in the grip coiled tight around him, holding him to the wall. 

"BLAINE!" he screamed, trying to force his eyes open over the unbearable glow of yellow light.

He could hear Blaine crying out, could see him straining, his wrists and legs restrained by tendrils of the same pale, glowing rope.

"KURT!"

"Well, well." The voice was new, smooth and even, low and coiled tight with snake-like intent. "Isn't this touching?"

Blaine's face fell open in shock, and he gaped at the twisting vision emerging from the mirror in waves of greenish-yellow smoke.

"Sebastian! Help us!" he shouted.

"Cute, little brother," the sorcerer said, smoothing over his cloak. "Very cute."

Blaine's face contorted with confusion. "Sebastian, what are you doing?"

"Well I had hoped it wouldn't come to this," he said silkily, glancing between the two of them. "You weren't supposed to find anyone, much less true love. But even I can't plan for these things."

Blaine shook his head desperately. "Sebastian, why are you doing this? You came to me! You wanted to help!"

"Of course I did," Sebastian cooed, reaching out to brush a hand over Blaine's cheek.

Kurt thrashed against his bonds, growling viciously. "Stop it!"

"Let him go," Blaine begged. "Please, Sebastian, why are you doing this?"

"Because you, dear, clueless brother, don't deserve to rule," he said matter-of-factly, folding both hands neatly in front of him. "And now that mother dearest has been… taken care of-"

"Sebastian," Blaine warned, eyes flashing with fear. "What have you done?"

"I'm taking my rightful place," Sebastian informed him grandly, holding out both arms. 

"What - _place_?" Blaine demanded.

His voice was brutally mocking, pouring from a thinly smirking mouth. "Daltasia will need a king when they finish mourning the death of their beloved Queen, and the," he pressed a hand to his chest, " _devastating_ loss of the only heir." 

"You can't-" Blaine choked. "You're not the heir, and a man can't rule as king without…" his voice trailed off in realisation. 

Sebastian's smirk widened.

Controlling his tone as carefully as he could, Blaine fixed his step-brother with a dark stare. "Why are you doing this?"

"Because I want Daltasia," Sebastian said simply. "And I get what I want."

"I _will_ stop you," Blaine growled.

"Oh, really?" He raised a hand.

Kurt felt the bonds tighten around his chest and arms, sending violent shocks of pain to every nerve. He cried out helplessly, head falling back against the stone bricks.

"Stop it!" Blaine screamed, rushing against his ties and stumbling from the force. "Let him go, Sebastian, please! I'll do what you want. Just let him go."

"Where is it, Blaine?"

"Where's what?"

"The sword," Sebastian tilted his head, eyeing his brother dangerously. "Without it, I am only regent. I am nothing. With it? I am king. And my power knows no end."

"You will never be king," Blaine spat.

Sebastian's hand shot out, gripping Blaine's chin violently and tilting his head up. 

"Where. Is. The sword?"

"I don't have it," Blaine gritted out, fighting his restraints.

"Mmm," Sebastian hummed as he turned, sweeping back towards the mirror. "I had a feeling you'd say that, so I took some extra… precautions."

Blaine watched, helpless and sucking back broken breaths as the mirror shimmered once, and showed two silhouettes.

"No."

"They're lovely, your friends," Sebastian said sweetly, stroking the mirror where Rachel and Quinn peered back through, frozen still. "But they're mine now. At least, until you give me something worth their return?"

"Let them go, let _him go_ ," Blaine begged again, fingers straining, splayed in the air towards Kurt. "You can take me, instead, just- please."

"Always so self-sacrificing. How pathetic," he said with a mocking sigh, moving to crouch down in front of Blaine. "There is one day left before the spell draws us back. You return to me, here, in this place, tomorrow night, before the spell is done. The sword for your friends."

"Kurt-"

"Take him, he means nothing to me," Sebastian shrugged, waving a hand and ignoring the thump of Kurt hitting the floor as the bonds fell away. "Your friends in the mirror are mine until you bring me that sword."

Blaine grunted out a pained sound, shaking against the twists of rope that burned his skin.

"You have one day," Sebastian warned, fading back into the glass of the mirror in swirls of pale, powdered yellow clouds. "Don't keep me waiting."

When his bonds fell and dissipated in sparks of light, Blaine scrambled across the paved ground, scraping his knees and dragging himself to where Kurt lay still. 

"Kurt?" He shook him roughly, lifting him up by both shoulders. "Kurt!"

"I'm fine," Kurt breathed, coughing and gripping Blaine's jacket in loose fists. 

Blaine drew in a violent, relieved gasp of air, cradling Kurt's head to his chest and pressing a kiss into his hair.

"So…" Kurt laughed weakly. "That's your step-brother?"

Blaine huffed out a sound that was equal parts laughter and pain, and Kurt's eyes fell to red, raw burns on his wrists.

"That was Sebastian," Blaine said, pressing another kiss to Kurt's forehead around a dry sob. "I'm so sorry. I brought this on us, I'm so sorry, Kurt, I-"

"Shh-shht," Kurt whisper softly, pressing fingers to Blaine's mouth. "I'm alright. Nothing's broken. My shell's a lot harder than it looks."

Blaine nodded, eyes falling shut and lips dragging over Kurt's fingertips gently, kissing each of them in silent gratitude. 

"He has Rachel? And Quinn?"

"I fear," he mumbled against Kurt's hand. "I fear for them, but he can't harm them while they're caught in the mirror."

"Okay," Kurt groaned, pulling himself up with the help of Blaine's strong, guiding hands. "We need a plan."

"I should have known he would-" Blaine huffed out an exhausted sigh. "I trusted him."

"It's always the step-something," Kurt gurgled on another cough, burying his face in Blaine's shoulder as he rolled up onto his knees, and they both rose to their feet.

"I'll get them back," Blaine told him, voice heavy with promise. "I swear to you, I will get them back."

"I'll come with you tomorrow," Kurt insisted, rocking against him once they found their footing. "We just need to make sure he gives them back, first."

Blaine swallowed roughly, eyes huge and laced with sudden, infinite sadness. "Kurt, I can't give him the sword."

Kurt blinked at him, stunned. "You…"

"I will get them back, I promise you," he insisted. "But I can't let Daltasia fall to Sebastian. It's my home. They're… my people, I can't leave them to his will."

Shell-shocked and blinking rapidly, Kurt stared all around them, eyes trailing over the now innocent-looking mirrors and the huge, rich plum curtain that obscured the balcony from the ballroom.

"I love you," Blaine confessed brokenly, eyes dark and half-lidded in the pale lantern lights. "But I think you were right about happy endings."

Kurt shook his head sharply, crowding against Blaine's chest and clinging to his shoulders, pulling him in. "No."

"Kurt," he said.

"Don't," Kurt demanded, and pressed sharp kiss to his lips, hand pushing through the curls at the back of his neck to hold him there. "Don't."

They lost themselves again, clinging tight and holding with everything they had, mouths crashing together in needy, desperate concert, hands dragging over fabric and skin.

" _Kurt_ ," Blaine's voice was guttural, twisted on a sob as he pulled away.

"I love you," Kurt breathed. "We can fix this. We can find a way."

"I can't-"

"We don't have to give him the sword," Kurt cut him off. "There's another way, there's always another way."

Blaine sighed wetly, pressing their foreheads together and letting his eyes drift closed.

"Why does he need it?" Kurt asked, gaze flicking back and forth.

"By the Dual Queen's law," Blaine began slowly, opening his eyes. "If a man is to be king, he must hold the sword. Only women can rule without it."

"Which is why your stepmother didn't need it?"

"Exactly."

"If you go back with him," Kurt asked, "can you get back here?"

Blaine shook his head softly. "Not without his help."

Kurt straightened slightly. "What if we destroy it?"

He shook his head again. "It can't be destroyed, it's protected by enchantments stronger than any I've ever seen. And we know now that the magic of Daltasia works in your world, too."

Drawing a sharp, frustrated hiss of air, Kurt let his head drop onto Blaine's shoulder and sank down into his arms.

Blaine held him gently, resting his cheek against Kurt's hair and closing his eyes, letting the faded music wash over them in the quiet.

Kurt didn't know how long they'd been standing there, caught up in the warmth of each other, when he finally realised what was right in front of him. 

He rolled his head to the side, pressing his lips to Blaine's neck before he let out a soft breath and whispered; "Take me with you."

Stunned, Blaine pulled back, letting Kurt lift his head so their eyes could meet. "What?"

"Take me with you," Kurt said firmly, unblinking.

"But you - this is your home," Blaine said helplessly. "Everything you love is here."

"Only for the next day or so," Kurt shrugged, "then it's gone."

Blaine swallowed roughly, studying his face. 

"Kurt, think about what you're saying. Daltasia is … it's not this place. I would stay, if I could. I can't ask you to go back when I wouldn't go myself, if I had the choice."

"You're not asking," he said. "I am."

Blaine's brow knitted together quickly, a torrent of emotions flashing across his face.

"You have everything you need," Kurt inclined his head, smiling softly, "to be king. Heirship. Sword. Betrothed."

He only nodded for a moment before he froze, eyes widening, face falling open in beautiful, innocent shock. "You-"

"I got interrupted, before." Kurt said breathily, eyes falling to Blaine's mouth for a brief moment before he looked back up.

"You're saying-"

"Yes," Kurt cut him off, leaning in and pressing their mouths together in a slow, sweet kiss, and laughing against Blaine's mouth when his arms coiled around Kurt's waist, spinning him around in circles.

Blaine set him down again, grinning broadly, lifting both hands to brush across both sides of his face. "I love you."

"I guess I have to get used to _your majesty_ ," Kurt joked quietly, and let his fiance kiss him one more time.


	11. Chapter 11

It was midnight before they found their way back to the apartment again. After another two trips back and forth, a change of clothes and a venture to the hardware store, they stumbled inside, covered in dust and sore down to their bones.

Blaine watched the slump of Kurt's shoulders, silhouetted against the sudden wash of the living room light as it flickered on, and smiled to himself. 

After everything, the blessing that Kurt was here, Kurt was _his_ , was enough to keep his heart from breaking at the loss of his beautiful new world, at the betrayal of his brother.

None of it mattered. And none of it would break him.

Kurt would be his king.

He lingered just a step behind, studying Kurt's long, pale fingers as they curled the edges of his dust-smattered hoodie, trying to tug it off.

Blaine moved to his side silently, taking Kurt's hands in his own, guiding the fabric over his shoulders and running warm, strong palms down his back. 

Kurt groaned and rocked on his feet, arching into the touch.

"You're hurt?" Blaine asked softly, and Kurt shook his head once.

"No, just … very sore," he said. "Just. Hoping this works."

"It's a good plan," Blaine insisted, folding the jacket over the counter and returning his attention to the rigid muscles of Kurt's shoulders. "By the sword's power, it will work."

Kurt smiled weakly, his eyes drifting closed.

Blaine studied him for a moment, suddenly overtaken with awe.

"You're so calm, under such an incredible weight," he gushed quietly. "You thought of a plan. You kept control, in the face of everything."

Huffing out a soft, wordless sound, Kurt let his head tip back as he revelled in the relief of Blaine touching him, the warmth of the hands running down his spine soothingly. 

"You're going to make an excellent king," Blaine said.

Kurt swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing in the dim light. "King…"

"I always feared I would … fall short," Blaine admitted quietly. "That I wouldn't be the king Daltasia deserved. But with you… I feel …" he let out an uneven breath, "I feel like I'm the stronger part of myself. I feel … whole."

Kurt smiled to himself, just a tiny curve of his lips at the revelation in Blaine's voice. 

"Has Daltasia ever had two kings before?"

Blaine laughed softly. "No. But perhaps it's time for something new," he suggested.

He could see the restlessness still flickering over Kurt's features.

"The plan will work," Blaine told him firmly.

"It will work," Kurt mumbled to himself, swaying slightly as exhaustion crept over him, and the feeling of Blaine's body so close became as welcoming as a warm bed.

A sudden, sharp jolt of pain made him gasp and flinch away. He tried to steady himself quickly, but Blaine was already bracing him.

"Kurt?" Blaine's face was riddled with concern.

"It's nothing, it's-"

Blaine's fingers ghosted over his back again, sliding over the sensitive spot just below his ribs, and he hissed quietly, unable to keep it in at the red-hot flare of pain.

"Let me see," Blaine said, eyes cast down.

Kurt watched him over his shoulder, wetting his lips carefully before he tilted to catch Blaine's eyes. "I'm fine. Just a little bruised."

"Kurt," he asked softly, eyes lit with a desperate, quiet fear, "please?"

Huffing a gentle breath in resignation, Kurt dropped his hands to his shirt, tugging it gingerly upward. He knew it probably felt worse than it looked, it always seemed to be the way. He didn't bruise that easily.

Blaine caught the edges of his shirt and lifted it from the back, drawing a sudden, sharp breath.

 _Or, maybe it looks as bad as it feels,_ Kurt thought to himself, and let his eyes fall shut as Blaine pressed in against him, burying his face in the crook of Kurt's neck and choking back a pained sound.

"I'm still here, I'm alright," Kurt assured him gently, resting his cheek on soft curls. 

"I'm sorry-" Blaine's voice was strained, higher than he'd ever heard it before.

"Shhh, hey-" He twisted to press a kiss into Blaine's hair. "I'm fine. But, I should get… cleaned up."

Blaine nodded against him, and Kurt lifted his hand to cover Blaine's reassuringly where it was pressed against his belly, keeping him centred and safe like an anchor amidst the exhaustion.

When he looked down, he narrowed his eyes at the pink burns on Blaine's wrist, the raw marks the rope had left earlier that night.

"That doesn't hurt?" he asked, raising Blaine's arm to inspect the damage.

Blaine nuzzled against Kurt's neck for a moment before he glanced up. "It did," he mumbled. "It… does."

"Come on." Kurt turned, gathering both of Blaine's hands in his own and leading him to his room.

It felt like a ritual, somehow. The silence after a battle, suddenly all too real in the wake of a fairytale come to life. Kurt knew he should have been frightened, should have been questioning his sanity at the mere memory of Sebastian emerging from the mirror. But somehow, he felt calm, and sure like he had never been before. He had Blaine. And the plan would work.

He let his body move without a second thought, let the ritual of it take him over. Just the act of being there with Blaine, silent and tranquil as they undressed each other and mapped each other's injuries, felt like something sacred. Something old.

Without the costume or the crest, Blaine should have seemed small again, should have seemed like the same Blaine he'd seen so many mornings, padding quietly down the hall. The same Blaine he'd seen strewn across his guest bed, panting and sleepy in the wake of his first orgasm, lost to the wonder of being alive.

But somehow, stripped of any link to his title or his home, or even his new reality, _this_ Blaine was utterly new. The quiet, powerful amalgamation of the fading prince with the man beneath. The strength in his frame, in his eyes, seemed suddenly overwhelming, and Kurt wondered how he could ever have doubted himself a king. 

He ran both hands over Blaine's bare shoulders once they were exposed, savouring the warmth and the sudden thrill at the feeling of firm muscle under his palms. His skin was smooth, unblemished and beautifully tan, and Kurt pondered silently if he could somehow ensure Blaine never wore another shirt again. 

He'd seen Blaine without it before - he'd seen him almost naked, of course - but peeling the clothes away with his own two hands had left him trembling at the sheer fact that he could. It was perfect, and heady, and aching under his skin; the need to touch, to feel. To remember.

Blaine watched him as he moved, eyes drugged with exhaustion and honey-sweet, staring at Kurt's mouth, at the curve of his jaw, and flashing with light when he looked back up to his eyes. He let Kurt strip him down without protest, giving in to the silent demands of Kurt's fingers as they swept away the modern day armour of the evening. 

He was bruised, but only lightly, with red raw burns at both wrists and ankles, and another on his leg. He seemed content simply to stand, left only in his black brief-shorts, and let Kurt search his body with his eyes and his hands, to find every injury that needed attention, and soothe it.

By the time Kurt had finished and clipped the first-aid kit shut, Blaine was restless, and his arms were twitching by his sides as he watched Kurt move.

Kurt met his stare with a questioning look.

Slowly, taking the invitation, Blaine stepped in and pressed against his body, hands curling into gentle fists around the fabric of his shirt at his sides. 

Kurt shivered as the air changed, and the medical, clinical feeling of taking care of someone, of easing their pain, became a sudden rush of dizzying need, coiling tight and hot inside.

Blaine was holding him so lightly it felt like he was barely there at all, but somehow all the same, Blaine was all there was. 

Kurt swayed, lost in the deep, powerful scent of him, so close and suddenly _his_ to touch.

Tugging weakly at the edges of Kurt's shirt, Blaine rested their temples together, letting his eyes fall shut. 

"Show me," he said softly, fingers grazing over the bruises and scrapes on Kurt's back. "Show me what to do."

Letting out a shaky, long-held breath, Kurt nodded, lifting his hands to unbutton his shirt and letting them fall again as Blaine took over. He wasn't sure if he was shaking lightly from the exhaustion or the pain he couldn't quite feel anymore, numb and sedated in the wake of Blaine's warm hands sliding over his bare skin, pushing his shirt off carefully. 

Blaine's eyes raked over his chest, wider than they'd been all night, soaking in every inch of pale skin stretched over muscle and bruise.

His breath was hot when it fell away from him, audible and slow, shuddering on the air as he trailed warm fingertips down the lines of Kurt's chest. He was gentle, reverent and unblinking, caught up in the sudden exploration of another man's body for the first time.

Kurt tried to stay still, tried not to shift under the intensity of Blaine's eyes. He swallowed carefully, waiting, letting Blaine learn him by touch. 

When Blaine's palms pressed against his shoulder blades, guiding his body in as he dropped to place a kiss to his collarbone, Kurt whimpered softly; a sudden release of the heat that was building in his spine.

"I'm sorry," Blaine whispered quickly, pulling away only to be caught by Kurt's insistent hands.

"No, that's - that was- good," Kurt explained in a rush, smiling weakly. "That was…"

Blaine's lips pressed together, curled at the edge in his own soft, beautiful smile before he moved closer again, fingers dancing over Kurt's sides, mindful of the graze below his ribs. 

"How do I… I want to …" he breathed, ducking his head. "I want to heal this, can I make it - go away?"

"No," Kurt said simply, shivering with the sharp stab of sympathy he felt at the hurt look on Blaine's face. "It'll heal, in time. For now just… here-" 

He tipped and reached out a long arm to flick open the kit, to gather the antiseptic and the warm cloth he'd brought from the bathroom. "I can't reach it, can you…?"

"Turn around," Blaine said as he took the cloth and cream, waiting while Kurt shifted on the spot to face the other way.

Blaine's hands were gentle and strong, sweeping over the graze and cleaning it carefully in light strokes at Kurt's instruction.

Kurt felt his body relax gradually while Blaine worked, and then all at once felt the lingering tension release and drift out of him like a plug had been pulled somewhere inside.

_Everything is going to be alright._

When Blaine finished, Kurt could hear the clip of the first aid kit, could hear it slipping shut on the side table before powerful, strong arms scooped around his waist and crossed over themselves. He shuddered lightly with the relief, the sudden, perfect press of Blaine all around him, warm skin on skin, engulfing him completely. He felt his skin prickle into goosebumps as Blaine pressed soft, wet kisses in a pattern down his shoulder.

"I love you," Blaine whispered, his voice barely there.

Kurt hummed quietly, settling back into Blaine's embrace and letting his eyes flutter closed. 

His overtired mind stumbled over thoughts that would normally rise him to panic; _your fiance is holding you, your fiance that you've known for two weeks, the man who walked out of a fairytale._

_You only just kissed him and now you're leaving everything for him._

The thoughts came like a dull drum, simple and unfettered by the worry he knew should have been there. But it never came.

"I love you, too," he said, and rocked on his heels as Blaine drew him tighter, pressed a hot, open mouth to his neck, and up across the shell of his ear.

 _You're leaving everything for him,_ the dull voice repeated on a static monotone.

Kurt sighed softly, lips parting gently as his body rippled with shivers of slow, heady pleasure under Blaine's exploring hands and mouth.

 _It doesn't matter,_ he thought.

_I would do anything._

Blaine turned him carefully in his arms, both hands lifting to cradle his jaw as he slipped their mouths together in a slow, sensual rhythm, pressing in, sucking gently on his tongue and claiming him.

Kurt leaned into the kiss and wrapped both arms around Blaine's neck, quietly hungry but too tired to do more than taste him as slowly and deeply as he could. His heart flooded his chest with a radiating peace as he finally understood the reason for the absence of fear.

_I would walk off the edge of the world for you._

He felt Blaine's hands fall away, felt them slide over his hips again, dropping to his legs. In a flash of sudden movement, Blaine dipped and slid both hands inside his thighs, drawing him up off the ground and locking their bodies together.

Stunned at being lifted off his feet, Kurt started to protest, but his body moved with out him, legs coiling tight around Blaine's hips as he held his weight and craned to kiss him again. 

_This is real,_ his heart reminded him.

He felt lightheaded at the weightlessness, the sudden, overwhelming ache of gratitude that came with being protected and cherished by someone so completely.

When Blaine lowered him down onto the bed, peeling away the covers, he let his arms fall either side of his head at angles, chest rising and falling like a tide. 

Blaine balanced on hands and knees over him, dipping to press kisses across his collarbone and up the pale column of his neck as his head tipped back against the pillows.

He wondered absently if anything else would ever matter again, anything that wasn't Blaine's hands and Blaine's mouth, the feeling of their bodies together, intertwined, innocent and passionate and raw. He felt numb and alight all at once, down to the bones of him, sinking into the mattress under a perfect weight as Blaine settled down over his frame.

Sliding between Kurt's legs, Blaine rested his cheek to Kurt's heart, closing his eyes and listening to the slow drum of his body. So much of them was too real, and too fleeting, with only a day before it all disappeared.

Blaine shifted, found Kurt's lips again, soaking in sweet, languid kisses as they held on to each other, content to sleep still tasting each other if they had to. 

Kurt couldn't remember the last thing he'd said aloud, and he didn't care, lost in the bedframe of his lover's body and content to let the night wash everything else away.


	12. Chapter 12

When Kurt woke, the previous night to came crashing back down in his mind, sharp and fast in an avalanche of awareness.

He flexed his fingers, trying to calm the flood of panic, the rush of _Rachel-Quinn-mirror-sword-help_ , with steadying breaths. It tore through his blood, quickening his heart for a moment before the deliberate rhythm of his breathing washed it away.

As the flare finally dissipated, he realised where he was, and began to remember everything that came after the confrontation. The sword. The plan. _This will work._

A calm set in, a slow rising peace that bled through his bones and let him feel like he was sinking sweetly down, cocooned in the limpid warmth of the morning.

The weight of Blaine on top of him, pressed between his legs and over his chest, was comforting in a way he didn't expect; a steadying pressure that kept him sedated as reality crept in.

Blaine stirred a moment later, head lifting and sleepy eyes peering out from under a mess of bed-muddled curls. 

"Good morning," he mumbled, and dropped to press a kiss to Kurt's breastbone.

Smiling, Kurt wriggled underneath him, suddenly too aware of the heat and the telling ache in his hips. _Oh god._

Blaine hadn't noticed, it seemed, content to mark Kurt's body with his mouth in lazy, messy presses of lips and tongue.

"B-Blaine," Kurt stammered softly, trying to keep his eyes open, trying not to squirm at the wave of panicky pleasure that was creeping up inside.

_Your Disney prince fiance is lying on top of you. Your sweet, innocent Disney prince fiance, who has never had sex in his life, is currently pressed against your boner. Well done._

Kurt managed to keep down the whimper that rose in his throat as Blaine mouthed over a nipple.

"Blaine!" he cried softly, gasping for breath.

Blaine's head lifted again, and he blinked up at Kurt blearily in the soft morning light. "Was that wrong, am I doing it… wrong?"

" _Ohgodno_ ," Kurt breathed. "It's… good, it's all very, very good, but I just- I don't want to. Freak you out."

"Freak me out?"

"You - do you remember, uh…" Kurt tried to find the right words, ignoring the slightly mocking voice in his head. "When you woke up, that time, and you were…"

A broad smile crept over Blaine's face. He shifted carefully upwards, providing just enough friction to make Kurt gasp sharply.

"I know," Blaine said, dropping to nuzzle and lick at his collarbone.

"You- know. Okay," Kurt said, voice higher than usual and slightly disbelieving. "Wait, how do you- wh-?"

"And I - I mean, I can't be certain, but I think it's alright to tell you, now that we're…" Blaine's voice trailed off, and Kurt smiled softly at the blush that crept into his cheeks. 

"Whenever it happened… to _me_ , it was because of you," Blaine said shyly. "I always fell asleep remembering … you. The way you looked or the way you… " he swallowed roughly, "felt."

Kurt blinked at him in surprise, mind drifting back to their first almost-kiss on the couch, and what had happened the next morning.

His hips clenched against the instinct to jerk up, to meet the solid warmth of Blaine above him. He swallowed roughly, all too aware of just how turned on Blaine's confession had left him, fighting the urge to keep squirming at the flutter building low in his belly.

"Is that- I mean, I know you said it's private," Blaine hurried to say, and Kurt raised a hand to calm him.

"No, it's, it's fine. When two people who are… intimate talk about it, it's- it doesn't have to be private, it's…" He couldn't finish his sentence, trying to navigate the jumble of ranting incoherent thought in his head, still shell-shocked that Blaine had basically confessed to fantasising about him before he even knew what sex was.

Blaine craned his neck up to graze his mouth over Kurt's and suck on his lower lip gently before he let it go, his own way of trying to calm his fiance, to stop the panicked flood of words and soothe his nerves.

Kurt shifted slightly and drew another soft hiss of breath between his teeth. "I'm … just- you're on top of me and- and I-"

Blaine nuzzled softly under his jaw, mouthing over a prominent vein as he worked down his neck. "I know," he said again, voice slightly teasing.

"I don't want you to think you- you- have to. Do anything," Kurt panted out, eyes closed and head shaking against the pillow. "This is… new. For us."

Settling down on top of him again, Blaine drew both arms up to fold them over Kurt's chest, perching his chin on top of his own interlocked hands. "I learned a lot, from books."

Kurt blinked at him, stunned. "B-books?"

Blaine smiled.

Awareness prickled in the back of Kurt's mind. "That wasn't an anatomy book, was it?"

Blaine's grin widened slowly, and he pressed his mouth to the back of his hand, eyes still fixed coyly on Kurt.

"Wow, okay. So you…"

With a quick shift of his weight, Blaine dropped his arms either side of Kurt's chest, lifting his body up and rolling his hips.

"UNGH!" Kurt jolted, hands shooting out to grab on to anything he could.

Blaine watched him, eyes bright, seeming somewhat pleased with himself.

"Oh my god," Kurt mumbled, head rolling to the side. "Remind me to buy Rachel a fruit basket."

Chuckling, Blaine lowered himself down again, further up Kurt's body this time. He licked softly into Kurt's mouth, arms braced either side of Kurt's head and fingers threading into his hair. 

Kurt shuddered underneath him, pinned and helpless as Blaine's body moved over his, rocking their hips together gently and making Kurt moan against his tongue. 

"Oh god, Blaine," he whined as he pulled back.

"That's… good?" Blaine asked, showing his doubt for the first time in tiny creases at the corners of his eyes.

"Yes," Kurt gasped. "Very. Yes. Unghh."

"I've only…" Blaine began slowly as his body stilled. "I've only ever read. Or seen pictures. I don't know if … I'm doing this right, but I want to. I want to be … what you need."

"You are," Kurt said without pause, blinking lazily, mouth still hanging open.

" _Kurt_ …" Blaine's voice was thick and hesitant, his eyes dark and seeming almost frightened.

Kurt felt the sudden urgency of the moment, the fear behind Blaine's voice, and lifted both hands to cup his face. "What is it?"

"I want… I…"

Kurt waited, studying him carefully, determined to be patient despite the ache in him, screaming in his blood for more - more friction, more heat, more _Blaine_.

But Blaine's face was twisted in a sudden despair, trying to figure out if he could let the words slip from his tongue or if he should hold them, trapped between his need and the fear of doing something wrong.

All of this was raw, uncharted and so very _new_ to Blaine, and Kurt realised that his Disney prince knew enough about sex to know not only that he _wanted_ it - and pretty badly going by the current sweat-slick, panting state of him - but also that he couldn't just take it. He couldn't just do what his body was telling him to. He had to ask, and he wanted to ask the right way.

He had no experience to draw from, no idea of what was too much to ask for, and was caught in the lingering, paralysing fear of saying or doing the wrong thing.

"You can ask me," Kurt told him softly, drawing deep breaths and sweeping his thumbs lovingly over Blaine's jaw. "You can always ask me, for anything. Never be afraid to ask."

"I want to see you," Blaine whispered, wetting his lips carefully. "I want to see… all of you. I want touch all of you."

Kurt's eyes were warm and bright as he craned and pressed their mouths together slowly in a rolling, passionate kiss. He lifted himself up, meeting Blaine's body with his own and trying not to moan at the discovery that he was very hard, and jutting against his hip.

He shifted slowly, wrapping his leg around Blaine's thighs and pushing up against him, sliding so their hips locked together and they could feel each other through their briefs. 

Blaine's head dropped onto Kurt's shoulder with a choked-off whimper as they sank back down onto the mattress.

"I want you to," Kurt said.

A thought struck him, an idea flashing behind his eyelids, and it seemed as good a place to start as any. 

"You know how you … you touch yourself, on those mornings? You can…" Kurt tried not to flush at the words that were falling out of him. "You can touch me."

Lifting his head again, Blaine watched Kurt's face for a long, drawn out moment, studying his flushed and beautiful features almost breathlessly. He moved very slowly at first, lifting his body away and further down the bed before he glanced up one more time to be sure.

Kurt smiled, rolling his head on the pillow and reaching out to twine fingers encouragingly in Blaine's hair, stroking through it gently, letting the curls slip and coil around his fingertips.

Blaine moved delicately, hooking the edges of Kurt's briefs and drawing them down, hands slipping so lightly over his skin it made Kurt shiver. 

He felt exposed with the sudden rush of air over the heated length of his cock, and couldn't stop his muscles from twitching at the sensation. 

Settling down on his side and resting his cheek on Kurt's chest, Blaine traced the lines on Kurt's skin, fingers dancing lightly over his thighs before they moved up to the thick, flushed line of his cock, dragging his palm over the exposed underside in a smooth stroke. 

Kurt whined softly, doing his best not to writhe under Blaine's careful hands as they explored. Blaine mapped the soft creases of him with callused fingertips, measuring his marks, the dips and curves, the swell of his thighs and the cut of hipbones, committing them to memory without ever saying a word. Finally, he curled strong fingers around the base, sliding his hand up and down in an even, deliberate sweep of his fist.

Panting and twitching, Kurt whined softly from behind him, and Blaine understood now that the sound meant something good, meant he was doing something right. 

His own body thrumming with quiet need, Blaine rolled his cheek against Kurt's skin, pressing an open mouth kiss to his belly and nuzzling against the flash and tremor of his muscles as his strokes grew faster, and firmer, and Kurt's breath became percussion on the air.

Blaine took his time, gliding his hand up and down carefully, learning every inch of him. He swept his thumb over the head on an upstroke and felt Kurt jerk slightly, pausing for a second before he kept going, eyes half-lidded with lust and body aching with his own coiling heat as his hips squeezed and released restlessly against the pressure.

He swept his hand up again, over the head, dragging down the slick moisture gathered there and letting out a shuddering breath at the change in the sensation, warm and slick and perfectly heavy in his palm.

Kurt's hand pushed possessively through Blaine's curls, twining a fistful of them between his fingers as he writhed on the bed. His head lolled weakly on the pillow, eyes closed to the slow-building, torturous ebb and flow of pleasure that was pooling in his body just from being touched like this, from being stroked and explored so gently for so long.

By the time his hips were jerking and trying to push up into Blaine's fist, Blaine had lifted up again, propping himself on an elbow as his other hand kept pumping firmly. His gaze trailed lovingly over the flushed and desperate look on Kurt's face, and he twisted his wrist just slightly on an upstroke, the way he'd discovered made Kurt moan, made his legs slip wider apart and his hips thrust shakily. 

He lay still, soaking in every gasp, every tremble of Kurt's lips, transfixed and lost to the beauty of him as he fell to pieces in his hands. The sudden, powerful awareness that _he_ did that, that he made Kurt look like that, left Blaine moaning breathlessly, body clenched and aching for friction.

Kurt's fingers tightened slightly in his hair, and his hips twisted on the bed. He whined Blaine's name, high and breathy, eyes closed and head thrown back as he drew in sharp gusts of hair, teetering on the edge of his orgasm.

When he cried out and arched off the mattress, Blaine moved with him, kept stroking him through it as he came hard over his fist, mouth open and eyes clenched shut. 

Blaine whimpered and shifted his body, palming himself through his underwear desperately and burying his face against Kurt's chest with a broken moan as he followed.

Kurt blinked at the ceiling, trying to focus, trying to find any kind of actual language beyond the swirl of numbing bliss in his veins and the absence of sound in his ears.

When Blaine rolled against him lightly, he smiled, letting out a soft laugh. "That was..."

Blaine nodded weakly, nuzzling his side, boneless from the aftershocks of his orgasm and trying to get further up the bed with little success.

Kurt laughed again, sliding down the sheet slightly and rolling to meet Blaine's mouth, to suck at his lip and sweep his tongue over his teeth. 

"Mmmh." He pulled away. "You're amazing."

Blaine grinned dopily at him, eyes half-lidded and tranquil like he'd never seen them.

"We should shower, clean up," Kurt told him, moving to get up before Blaine's hands caught him frantically.

"But - I-"

"What is it?" Kurt asked quickly.

Blaine looked slightly pained, eyes wider now and honey golden in the wash of morning light. His gaze fell, drifting up the length of Kurt's naked body. 

"I … wasn't finished…" he said very softly, resigned.

"Oh!" Kurt cooed and laughed, overwhelmed with the rush of affection that swept over him at the look on Blaine's face; utterly crestfallen that the sex might be over already.

Kurt rolled against him, hands lifting to cradle his head and tip it back so he could kiss him deeply, thumbs stroking through his hair and holding him in place for Kurt to lick into his mouth, to suck on his tongue, to show him. To let Blaine know he was his. 

He pulled away with a soft, breathy hum. "We're coming back to bed," he said firmly. "But first. Bathroom. Teeth. Shower."

Blaine grinned back, and gave a little nod.

They shared the shower, and Kurt tried his best not to stare openly at Blaine's naked body, lit up and absolutely breathtaking under the bright, silvery bathroom lights. When Blaine caught him looking a seventh or eighth time, he blushed, and went back to cleaning himself quickly before he felt Blaine's hands on his arms, turning him around.

"Look at me," Blaine said.

Kurt met his eyes, and Blaine shot him a wry look. 

"I mean _all_ of me."

He seized a long breath and trailed a hand over Blaine's chest slowly, following it with his eyes, watching the rivulets of water sweep down tan skin in endless racing patterns under his fingertips.

"The book said," he explained softly as Kurt's fingers lingered and pressed against the muscles of his stomach. "S-said that we can enjoy… looking at each other. I … I do. Enjoy looking. At you," he let out a rough breath for emphasis. " _Very much._ And I mean- if you do too, then-"

"I do," Kurt breathed, hand slipping lower, knuckles brushing over the soft skin below Blaine's belly.

He stepped in closer, impressed with himself at the return of the all-familiar prickle that started in his spine and coiled in his hips. Ducking his head, he pressed open-mouthed kisses to the column of Blaine's neck, and down over his collarbones, sinking lower and lower on his knees as he crowded him against the tile wall of the shower. Blaine's head tipped back, eyes closed and body pliant under Kurt's touch, letting him guide his hips to the wall without really wondering as to why.

It took a moment for him to connect the images in his book with the sudden, hot surge of arousal that came with Kurt's mouth teasing over the inside of his thigh, licking at the beads of water from his skin. Blaine drew a sharp breath, bracing himself on the walls of the shower as Kurt's fingers curled around his cock, stroking it gently. Blaine felt the telling flash of heat, the twitch and the sudden weight that came in concert with getting harder.

"K-Kurt," he whimpered, head rolling on the tile. "Oh … oh my."

Kurt smiled, watching Blaine's beautiful clouded face as he felt his cock grow harder in his hand, perfectly heavy and flushed dark, and making Kurt's mouth water.

He remembered the first time someone else had touched him. He remembered just how different it had felt, how suddenly everything was new and unexpected, how incredible it felt to have someone else making him feel like that.

When he licked an experimental stripe up the underside of Blaine's cock, he felt him twitch against the wall, heard his hands squeak on the tile for grip. Smirking lightly, Kurt mouthed over the head in gentle rolls of his lips, hand sliding smoothly up and down at the same time. Blaine's moan shattered and echoed through the bathroom, louder than Kurt had ever heard him, and the sound only made him sink eagerly deeper, taking more of Blaine in and sucking back, enjoying the press and the taste and the weight of him on his tongue.

Blaine was falling apart quickly, hips quaking and shoulder blades stuttering on the tile. Kurt pressed his free hand against a hipbone, keeping Blaine pinned to the wall as he sank down as far as he could, and hummed a gravelly sound when he pulled back. The telling heat was building in his own body again, burning in his veins, fuelled by the desperate noises Blaine was making and the way he felt in his mouth.

When Blaine called out his name, Kurt pressed in harder, burying Blaine's cock in his throat till his nose was pressed against soft skin. He swallowed over and over as Blaine came down his throat, thrashing against the wall weakly with a fractured cry.

Once Blaine slumped back against the wall, panting, Kurt pulled off and coughed briefly. He blinked the moisture from his eyes, watering from the stretch in his throat, before rising carefully to his feet.

Blaine was on him before he was balanced, pressing him into the wall, kissing and licking and biting at his skin in lazy, hungry sweeps, locking their hips together and sliding in feverish need.

Kurt whined, wrapped both arms around Blaine's shoulders and letting himself be lifted, be pressed against cold tile and owned by Blaine's broad hands, coiling both legs around his waist as their mouths met in sharp, desperate clashes of teeth and tongue.

When they made it back to the bedroom, dry and blissfully warm, Blaine's hands were on him again, guiding him down, spreading him out completely over the soft sheets. Kurt watched him, eyes dark and half-lidded as Blaine lingered over his body, finding the right place to start, suddenly alight with everything he could do, could take, could touch.

Kurt didn't care about anything, anymore. He didn't worry about his skin care routine, he didn't miss breakfast. He didn't feel hungry. 

He sank into the welcoming arms of his bed, body open and exposed, revelling in the intensity of being explored inch by inch with long strokes and soft kisses, gentle presses of fingers and lips and tongue. It was heady, and aching, and exquisitely torturous. He didn't know if hours had passed or entire days before he came again, this time with Blaine's mouth on him, sucking him eagerly, eyes rolling back in his head as he took all of Kurt and wanted more.

Kurt felt like he was floating, lost in the haze and drifting in and out of coherent thought as Blaine kept going, kept finding new places to tease and bite and mouth over, licking patterns into his thighs and pressing kisses up the ladder of his ribs.

He managed to find enough strength and control over his trembling, sweat-soaked body to locate the bottle of lube in his side table, handing it to Blaine and watching as he eyed it carefully, trying not to smile.

Any other time he would have felt embarrassed at needing to explain, but after hours of being so intimately and thoroughly explored, he didn't feel coy about anything anymore. 

"It's for when you're inside me," he said softly.

Blaine's eyes widened in surprise, bright and flashing with a sudden clarity. 

Kurt wondered how much detail Blaine's book had gone into about preparation, but any concerns were quickly dismissed when Blaine opened the bottle and swept the smooth, silky liquid over his fingers.

As Blaine settled down on the mattress beside him, Kurt rolled over, hip pressed against Blaine's knee. He gave in to the sudden urge to reach out and touch, letting his hand stroke lovingly over Blaine's thigh while he waited.

Blaine moved just as slowly as he had been all day, learning the angles and the muscles of Kurt's back, discovering new favourite spots to linger and worship with his mouth. He got lost in the places that made Kurt dizzy, that made him louder, kissing sweetly over the top of his spine, and the soft skin just above the swell of his ass. 

He palmed over the curve roughly with his dry hand, fingers kneading into the muscle, and Kurt moaned at the sudden hard contact. He felt like his body was on fire again, cock pulsing with heat, trapped against the mattress as Blaine's slick fingers massaged soft skin, dragging between his cheeks and making him writhe.

When Blaine slipped inside of him the world went white behind his eyes, and his hips canted back, legs spreading as he whined desperately into his pillow, begging for more.

Blaine's lips parted in awe, eyes blown wide and lustful as he watched Kurt move under his hand. He gave him what he needed, pressing past the tight ring of muscle in long, experimental twists of his finger, head falling to rest on Kurt's back when he couldn't hold himself up anymore as the sheer intensity of what he was doing overtook him. He whined against Kurt's trembling skin, sinking his fingers deeper as Kurt's hips rocked, fucking back onto Blaine's fingers.

"Kurt," Blaine managed between harsh, shaky breaths, lost and aching all over with a deep, hot _want_ that he couldn't put words to, the need to feel more, to be inside of Kurt, to be closer than this.

"More," Kurt insisted, grunting into the pillow.

It took a moment for Blaine to catch his meaning before he added another finger, plunging deeply and drawing back, trying to keep steady under the incredible feeling of Kurt's body squeezing around his fingers so tightly.

After a few more strokes, he added a third finger carefully, closing his eyes to the sharp thrill of pleasure that racked his body at the sound of Kurt moaning so brokenly, at the feel of Kurt's body pressing into his hand. He tried to breathe evenly, lost in the warmth inside of Kurt and the tight squeeze of his muscles. He felt like he was falling to pieces, sliding his fingers in and out of Kurt's body and stretching him open, experimentation lost to the mindlessness of wanting so much more.

"Blaine," Kurt whined softly, hand petting at his shoulder. "P-please, you can-"

Blaine lifted his head and let out a soft, broken breath at the sight of him, spread on the bed and staring back down through impossibly dark, hazy blue eyes.

Shakily, Blaine moved up to his knees, shifting to kneel over Kurt's thighs and gathering the bottle to slick himself up carefully. His hands were unsteady, and he took a moment to breathe, to stroke himself smoothly as he shifted to kneel between Kurt's legs. His gaze trailed over the curve of Kurt's raised ass and the open, wet stretch of his hole. Breathless and overwhelmed, Blaine rocked forward, leaning over Kurt to pepper gentle kisses across his shoulders.

Kurt's breath hitched when he felt the blunt tip of Blaine's cock pushing against him, opening him up with a sweet and familiar burn. He moaned loudly, unwilling to hold in any sound as the perfect, thick heat of Blaine slowly sank inside of him, filling him and making his blood scream for movement, for weight, for anything more.

Blaine let out a choked noise that sounded like a sob, but it prickled Kurt's skin and made his hips twitch against the mattress; the realisation that Blaine was inside of him, Blaine was buried in him to the hilt, and falling apart with pleasure because of it.

When Blaine started rocking softly, Kurt gasped, legs spreading open helplessly as each stroke pushed him into the mattress. He felt a sudden, welcome weight drape over his back as Blaine covered him, broad hands grazing over his sides and slipping between his chest and the mattress as he coiled both arms around Kurt tight and started fucking into him faster.

"Oh god," Kurt moaned, "Blaine, _oh._ Please."

Encouraged by the breathless pleading, Blaine snapped his hips up harder, moving with the primal instinct of his body, strung out and soundless with pleasure he'd never known before. He sank into the warmth of Kurt again and again, stunned at the how incredible the sound of their two bodies meeting with each thrust made him feel. It was powerful and heady, the heat spreading open under his skin, burning and sinking into his bones with the need to hold all of Kurt, to touch him everywhere, to stay inside of him and never let go.

They slid up the sheets as his thrusts grew harder, coiled together and writhing, rocking and crying out at every sharp slap as Blaine's hips pulled back higher each time. He felt it building, this time, the warning in his spine and the burn in his thighs mingling on the edge of pain, making him keen and stutter for breath as he buried himself deep, arms tightening around Kurt's body as he came.

Kurt pushed his hips up, felt his body spasm and draw tight around the thick weight of Blaine inside of him. His knees flared sideways, hips rutting between the mattress and the cock buried in his ass as his orgasm struck him full force, sending blinding electricity into every nerve and blacking out the stars behind his eyelids.

It took a long time for the sheer weight of Blaine on top of him to register, but even under the crush of it, he couldn't find a part of him that cared. Blaine was warm, and sweat-damp, coiled around him perfectly and still deep inside. Kurt sighed shakily, blinking and trying to keep his eyes open, lost in the dull hum of his post-orgasm haze and the reverb of their breathing.

Blaine finally stirred several minutes later, shifting almost imperceptibly above him to press weak, messy kisses to his shoulder. 

"I love you," he whispered, voice breathless but still so achingly sincere. Just as it had always been. "Are you… are you alright?" 

There was a twinge of concern in Blaine's voice, and Kurt rolled to taste the pillow with his grin. "I'm wonderful."

Blaine smiled and relaxed with a sigh on top of him, cheek rubbing against Kurt's shoulder as he snuggled down.

Kurt huffed a tiny laugh, slowly becoming more and more aware of his body as he came down from the high. He realised Blaine's arms were still wrapped around him, pinned against the bed and sticky with his come. 

"Can you still feel your arms?" Kurt mumbled.

"No," Blaine said simply, unmoving, as if that was that.

Kurt chuckled.

They lay still for too long, and when they finally moved they both groaned at the discomfort of getting up, of letting go. Another shared shower left them both sleepy and pliant, but still clinging and touching each other almost constantly, going over every familiar curve and angle like it was a lesson.

Kurt spent hours curled in Blaine's lap, content to simply be held and to let Blaine worship all the places he'd fallen in love with. He mouthed at the curve of Kurt's jaw and the expanse of his pale throat, cupped the swell of his ass and squeezed softly, loving the feel of it, firm in both hands. The afternoon was slow, and sweet; perfectly relaxed after a morning of tireless lovemaking and unspoken promises.

When night fell again, Kurt stirred from sleep, stunned that they'd drifted off. 

_It's not like you didn't wear each other out,_ the voice inside reminded him dryly.

With a smile, he rolled onto his side and watched the line of Blaine's profile where his head rested gently against the pillow. _I could do this forever with you._

His heart jolted sharply in his chest when the green flare of his clock bled into his vision against the dark, and his stomach gurgled weakly in protest to being empty.

Six hours to midnight.

They had time to eat. Time to get dressed, and for him to call his father. Time for his heart to break just a little with goodbye, and mend again in the warmth of Blaine's arms.

He leaned over, brushing fingers over Blaine's jaw and dipping to press their mouths together softly, sweeping his tongue over Blaine's lip and coaxing him awake.

"Mmmmh," Blaine murmured, eyes fluttering open slowly.

"Come on, Sleeping Beauty," Kurt said, "we have to get up."

"Nooo," Blaine whined groggily, twisting in the sheets to curl his arms around Kurt's body and pull him close. "Stay."

Laughing softly, Kurt couldn't help the worried furrow of his brow as his eyes fell to the clock. 

"We have to, Blaine, come on." He dropped another kiss on his temple, working his way out of Blaine's arms. "We have a plan to see through."

Blaine hauled himself gracelessly up into a sitting position after Kurt slipped off the bed to find his clothes, flicking on the light.

He winced the rise of bile inside, the sudden sick feeling that came with the knowledge that this new world was about to slip through his fingers. 

Blaine wanted to hate it, wanted to loathe Sebastian for bringing him here, for stealing him away again against his will. But he knew, as he watched Kurt pull on his shirt, that he could never bring himself to hate the one thing that had given him this moment.

He slid off the bed, pulling on his own clothes as quickly as he could find them, and turning to find Kurt again soon after. He closed the gap between them, wrapping both arms around Kurt's waist and pressing soft kisses to his lips in quick succession. 

"Thank you," he uttered softly.

Kurt quirked an eyebrow at him. "For what? For the mind-blowing sex? Because I'm pretty sure that was about ninety percent you, and your magical sex book. We're taking that with us, by the way."

Blaine's laugh settled into an adoring smile. "No," he said, "that, as well, but…."

Curious, Kurt leaned back, watching him carefully.

"Thank you for saving me," he whispered, eyes bright and earnest.

"Oh," Kurt breathed, and expression settled into a warm smile.

"No matter what happens," Blaine said seriously, meeting Kurt's eyes. "I will _always_ love you."

Kurt hushed him with another kiss, fingers gliding over his cheek. "Shh, no," he said softly. "Don't talk like that, we're going together. You can't-" he pressed another quick, desperate kiss to Blaine's lips, arms wrapping around his shoulders. "You can't leave me."

"I won't," Blaine promised. "I - I wish we could stay."

"So do I," Kurt said softly. "But I would build Daltasia from the ground up with my bare hands, if it meant I get to keep you."

Blaine laughed, eyes wet with tears. "You're starting to sound like me."

Kurt rested their foreheads together, chuckling and letting his eyes fall closed. "I know, I _just_ heard it."

There was a long pause while they held on to each other in the quiet of the evening, both lingering on unwanted thoughts and fears. The silence finally broke with Kurt's shaky voice.

"This will work," he said.

"It will," Blaine agreed softly, rubbing a soothing hand over Kurt's back, mindful of his bruises.

Kurt sighed heavily, forcing down the flare of panic at the back of his mind and squeezing Blaine tight in his arms.

_This will work._


	13. Chapter 13

His hands were shaking when he called home.

There was no long story to tell, he'd already told them everything about Blaine. He'd already gone over the whirlwind from fairytale to reality to sheer impossibility, and explaining the night of the ball became infinitely easier the moment he heard the sound of his father's voice.

Burt knew what was coming before he'd even finished, but he didn't cut him off. He gave tiny grunts of acknowledgement as Kurt spoke, soaking it all in, struggling to believe - but believing all the same. He knew his son.

Kurt's voice changed the closer he got to saying what he knew he had to, and it made Burt's heart tighten painfully in his chest. Kurt had been an adult for a long time now. But fifteen or fifty, he'd always be his boy.

And goodbye was never easy.

He started talking about the next flight to New York. 

Kurt could hear him moving around frantically, probably looking for something to pack, and couldn't keep his voice from shaking as he tried to soothe him. 

_Dad, there isn't any time._

Kurt could hear Burt's voice breaking when he said _I love you_ , and _I'm so proud of you_. 

He laughed against the hot, hollow feeling in his throat when Burt realised aloud that Kurt wasn't just getting married, he was becoming a king. _You don't do nothing by halves, do ya kid?_

He could hear Carole's tears when she said she was so proud, too. She gushed at him in tiny, hiccup-crying sounds that she fought hard to control, and he listened carefully, trying to catch her words between the noises.

Kurt asked her to take care of his dad for him, and Finn, and she agreed in an instant. She gushed at him in awed, whisper-soft tones, that she knew he would be a great king.

With a sad smile, he told her his dad may have taught him how to be the man he was, but she's the one who taught him the most important lesson, considering where he was going.

_Step-mothers really aren't so bad._

She laughed to keep from crying harder, and held on to her husband as they both said goodbye.

When Kurt put down the phone, Blaine held him, circling both arms around Kurt's waist as the tears rushed over his cheeks. He settled against Blaine's chest, warm and ever-present. Something to rest against, something to hold on to.

Blaine's voice was hoarse when he finally spoke. "Kurt, they're your family. I can't ask you to leave them, I-"

"Stop," Kurt said.

He didn't need to say anything more.

Midnight was coming. 

Blaine had suggested they change back into their suits from the ball, but Kurt had swayed against it, offering up Blaine's original tunic with a silent nod.

It would barely register for Sebastian, seeing Blaine as he always had, but if Kurt was wearing anything that eluded to Daltasia, it could easily tip off their game.

He settled for his favourite comfortable jeans, and a pull-over long-sleeve shirt with a warm hoodie. He closed his wardrobe with a sad smile, knowing his father would come by to box it up in a few days.

He wrote out his letters as quickly as he could - one for work, one for Rachel, another for Finn - and left them in envelopes on the dresser.

When he stepped out into the living room, Blaine was waiting. His tunic was pressed and clean, and almost cartoonishly bright against the muted backdrop of Kurt's apartment.

It struck him all at once that the prince he was staring at was so far removed from the one he first met, even if they looked the same. Blaine had become a different man, and while he was surely stunning before, now the sheer, flawed reality of him was absolutely breathtaking.

"Are you ready?" Blaine asked, eyes bright, as he held out a hand.

Kurt nodded and took it, sliding into his arms and heaving a soft sigh.

All the things he left behind when the door slipped shut vanished in an instant. All the books that Blaine would never read, all the clothes Kurt wouldn't wear again, all of it ceased to matter in the cool rush of the night wind as they hailed a cab and climbed inside.

He was calm, perfectly collected and still for the cab ride back to the ballroom. The warmth of Blaine's hand, resting on his knee, permeated his jeans and sank down into his skin like a comfort. A reminder that he wasn't alone, and never would be again.

Their footfalls echoed jarringly across the empty ballroom, now stripped of decoration and design. The purple banners and plush violet carpets were gone, leaving the bare bones of the ballroom in their wake. 

Twenty four minutes to midnight.

The sword was where he knew it would be, where he knew Phillip would hide it for him after they'd left him to the task the night before. He found it in a darkened room by the storage closet, covered with a sheet, away from all mirrors. 

The work he'd done was flawless for a last-minute job, and Kurt smiled to himself as he inspected it, grateful and relieved for the benefit of knowing the right people in the theatre community. All thanks to Rachel.

_This will work. We'll get them back._

Blaine helped him carry the slab across the polished floor and out onto the balcony, setting it down where they'd planned, adjacent to the mirrors. Draping the sheet over it again, Kurt rested a hand on the hilt, thumbing over the metal and leather handle through the fabric.

_This will work._

Eighteen minutes to midnight.

He eyed their covered creation, going over the right words in his head, breathing slowly and deliberately to calm his nerves. Phillip couldn't create a believable duplicate in that amount of time, no. But he could do the rest.

It was a risk. A huge risk, but with the right props and the right setting, he was banking on the one thing he knew he _could_ do, when the time called for it: act.

Blaine rested a hand on his shoulder, drawing him back from his wandering thoughts. He turned, and smiled softly, schooling his expression into a calm and collected exterior.

"Any minute now," Blaine said.

Kurt was proud of him, and not just for the strength in his voice. A part of him hoped deep down that even if Blaine had never come here, had never experienced his world, he still would have realised in himself what an incredible king he could become.

At least now Kurt had the opportunity to remind him for the rest of their lives.

Blaine leaned in and pressed a soft, chaste kiss to his lips, brushing fingers over his cheek gently. As he pulled back, Kurt smiled at him reassuringly. His eyes flashed brightly under the yellow sconce lights that lined the balcony walls, diffused by the glow of the city beyond.

Twelve minutes to midnight.

It started as a faint ebb of smoke. Just a slow, barely-there trail of mist, curling and twisting as it crept down the wooden legs of the mirror and bled onto the ground.

Blaine saw it first, and he reached out to take Kurt's hand in his own, squeezing gently and pointing with his eyes. 

They stood still as the sheet of sickly green began to pour in waves from the face of the glass, coiling around anything it encountered like a phantom snake. 

They took a step back at the same time, watching the wisps unfurl rapidly until the sweep of Sebastian's shadow rose from the billow. His lips peeled back into a white grin against the green as his form took shape. 

Kurt could feel Blaine's hand, soft and warm around his, thumb pressed lightly into his palm. Somehow it kept him at ease, even as Sebastian glanced between them, and lifted a hand.

"There's no need for that," Blaine said quickly.

Sebastian paused, faint sparks of yellow light lingering around his fingertips.

"We didn't come to fight."

Narrowing his eyes, Sebastian waited, hand flexing lightly in the air. "Where is the sword?"

"It's here," Blaine said, gaze unwavering. "Please, return our friends."

With a light huff of laughter, Sebastian dropped his hand. 

"How simple things must be in your tiny little head," Sebastian drawled. "The sword. First."

"And why would we do that?" Kurt interjected calmly.

"Ah, yes," Sebastian's eyes flicked over to him. "You again. It's funny, now I see you in the light, I didn't realise that fairies existed in this world."

"And I didn't know meerkats and weasels could breed, but here you are," Kurt shot back coolly.

Blaine's mouth twitched at the corner, just a flicker of a smile.

"Show us the girls, at least bring them out of the mirror," Kurt said. "Then you get your sword."

Sebastian folded both hands in front of himself, measuring both men with a disdainful glare. 

"Don't waste my time," he said. "You have minutes before the spell rises, and the sword returns. If nobody returns with it, Daltasia is left with neither regent nor king. It will fall into anarchy."

"And you'll be stuck here," Kurt countered, pinching one eye and smirking at him. "Won't that be fun."

Sneering, Sebastian straightened, visibly growing in height until he seemed to tower over them both. With a flick of his hand, the mirrors behind him began to bubble and shimmer, leaking tendrils of grey and green that slowly shifted in hue until coils of red and blue became fabric, and two figures fell through.

"Rachel," Kurt called, trying to mask the concern in his voice as his friend spluttered, clutching her girlfriend tightly. "Are you alright?"

She nodded, still coughing and clinging. "Fine," she croaked.

"He's-"

"We know," Quinn choked out, meeting his eyes as she steadied Rachel in her arms. "We saw."

With a sharp flicker of light, a cracking noise ripped through the air and both women stumbled, held back by a twisting serpentine of translucent rope.

"They're still mine," Sebastian said smoothly. "The sword. _Now_."

Kurt felt Blaine's eyes on him and met his gaze, trying to ignore the quickening of his pulse, the adrenaline that had fired in his veins at the unexpected tear of sound.

Blaine's expression was still calm, still unreadable, and it was enough to help Kurt slow his screaming heartbeat.

Sebastian eyed the scabbard tied to Blaine's belt, hissing lightly when he realised it was empty. 

"Where is the sword?!" he shouted, rage burning behind his eyes.

Blaine moved slowly, dipping a hand into the shadows where the covered block had gone unnoticed. He pulled away the black sheet of fabric carefully, and dropped it to the ground.

Sebastian growled. "What is this?"

"There's magic in all worlds, Sebastian," Blaine said calmly, watching his step-brother's face. 

He squeezed Kurt's hand absently, and Kurt squeezed back, a quiet reminder to both of them.

_Keep contact. Keep a hold of him. Don't let go._

Sebastian's eyes flicked between the two of them and the large grey block that encased the sword.

"We have an old legend here," Kurt said carefully, putting as much gravity behind it as he could. "That right there is the rock of ages. It's been used before, for this purpose."

Rachel shot him a questioning look, but behind her Quinn's mouth curled into a soft, impressed smile.

"What _purpose_?" Sebastian demanded.

"It holds the sword of the king, to prove him," Quinn chimed in smoothly. "Only the true king can pull the sword from the stone."

"King Arthur, of _course_ ," Rachel gasped. "Bu-" she hissed quietly, silenced by a pinch from Quinn.

"I don't believe you, it's just rock," Sebastian spat.

"Try it," Kurt offered. "Pull the sword out."

With a sweeping step, Sebastian took the hilt and tugged, jerking bodily when it didn't budge. He tried again, gathering both hands around the hilt and pulling as hard as he could.

Kurt smirked.

_God bless cement and the NY Ector Theatre props department._

"Now as I understand it," Kurt began. "You can only use the sword's power if you can wield it."

"Blaine," Sebastian growled, spinning on his heel and raising a threatening hand. "Pull the sword free, now. Or your friends will die."

Kurt felt the tension ripple through Blaine, saw the flash movement as he set his jaw. "If you kill them, you're still left without a sword."

"Tell me then, brother, what is your grand plan?" Sebastian asked mockingly. "We seem to be at a stalemate."

"I will go with you," Blaine told him. "Just you and me. We don't belong here, Sebastian."

"And you think I'd let _you_ rule?"

"Kurt will stay," he said, keeping his eyes fixed.

Kurt tried not to flinch at his side, tried not to give them away. Blaine had never lied before in his life, but he was doing well. Kurt managed to force down the slow-creeping tendrils of fear, rising in his throat.

Sebastian's gaze locked on Kurt at that moment, as if he could sense it. Kurt held his chin up higher in defiance, glaring back.

"No betrothed. No crown. Just take me with you, and let these people go."

"You would give me Daltasia?" Sebastian asked, voice thick with suspicion.

"Even if you take it now, you won't rule forever." Blaine pressed his hand to the crest over his heart. "I trust in the Dual Queens word, to return."

"Cute," Sebastian laughed. "Fairytales for a fairytale world."

None of them saw Rachel straighten suddenly, eyes wide and blinking in the pale yellow light of their restraints. She glanced at Quinn, and reached out to take her hand carefully, searching her face for recognition.

_I've told you this story._

Quinn's mouth fell open slightly, her brow lifting for a moment before she looked to where Kurt and Blaine stood, hands still joined together.

Her throat flashed as she swallowed, weighing up the situation as quickly as her mind could manage to draw it in.

When she glanced back, nothing else was important anymore. It slipped away, lost in the look on Rachel's face. 

She smiled softly, eyes sad but resolute, and gave a short nod.

"Do you agree to my terms?" Blaine asked sharply.

Sebastian watched him for a moment, studying his posture and the determined expression on his face.

"Very well," he said with a smirk. 

A sharp shot of blue light split the sky in a wave, rocketing down in silvery sparks tinged with red, coalescing around the blade and shaking the building under them like an earthquake.

"It's time!" Blaine shouted. "Let them go!"

Sebastian laughed again, and lifted his fingers smoothly, holding still for a deceiving moment and glancing down to Kurt and Blaine's linked hands.

Blaine's heart stopped in his chest, eyes flashing with fear. _He knows._

It happened too quickly. He wasn't fast enough. He knew it was coming, in the fraction of a moment before Sebastian flicked his fingers at Kurt.

The twist of yellow lashed across the open balcony, freeing both women and wrapping itself around Kurt's shoulders, tearing him back and out of Blaine's grip.

" _KURT!_ " Blaine cried out, stumbling and racing across the stone floor, scrambling to reach him before another coil of rope lashed around his chest and dragged him viciously back towards the stone.

"So close, little brother!" Sebastian shouted over the roar of deafening sound emanating from the shots and sparks of light encircling the sword, pouring down from above. "It's not that easy to fool me!"

He gasped sharply when a small, strong hand clapped down on his shoulder, and turned to find Quinn smirking at him. 

"I don't know about that."

One hand in Quinn's and the other reaching out, Rachel took hold of the sword.

Kurt's eyes widened as he looked up. "RACHEL!"

Red lightning twined with blue and twisted down in a thunderclap, a blinding wave, splitting the sky and gushing over the balcony in shattering streaks of white light before it flickered out, and shadow fell.

Dizzy and shaking, Kurt forced his eyes open against the pain, choking for air when he caught the outline of Blaine's still frame, and the empty space beyond him.

They were gone.


	14. Chapter 14

Kurt slumped down to the stony floor of the balcony, free of his restraints and still half-blinded by the overpowering light that had thrown them both to the ground.

Rachel and Quinn. 

Sebastian. The sword. All of it was gone.

As he pulled himself up the sky shook again with a clap of natural thunder, and the rain came down in a pounding wave.

He blinked rapidly against the torrent of water, pushing his hair away from his face and trying to ignore the sharp flare of pain in his limbs as he dragged himself across the floor to Blaine. 

"Where did they go?!"

Blaine shook his head rapidly, hands frantically sweeping over Kurt's chest the moment they reached each other, checking for wounds.

 _"Where did they go?!"_ Kurt shouted at him.

Blaine met his eyes, and that was all it took; the sadness there, the helplessness, and the last lingering twist of light going out as they knelt in each other's arms under the pounding rain. Kurt let out a choked sound.

"They're gone," Blaine said. "I'm so sorry, Kurt. I failed."

"Rachel?" Kurt asked, bewildered. "She- she knew what was happening, why would she touch the sword?"

"They did it to save us," Blaine whispered brokenly.

"No." Kurt shook his head rapidly, still blinking against the rain. _"No."_

"Kurt-"

"They can't be gone, we- we have to find a way to get them-" he hauled himself to his feet, grunting, "-get them back."

Blaine pulled himself up, shoulders rigid and eyes squinting to keep water out. "There's no way, there's - the sword was the only way in or out."

"What about the mirrors?" Kurt asked desperately.

He pushed past Blaine, rushing to the line of antique frames and frantically wiping at the glass surface of each mirror in turn to clear away the water, only to be met with his own pained expression.

"Kurt," Blaine said gently as he came to his side, resting both hands on his shoulders to try and calm him. "We can't get through."

"There has to be a way!" Kurt shouted, searching the open balcony in quick glances. "There has to be something!"

"The sword was the only thing powerful enough," Blaine told him. "And it's in their hands, now."

"So," Kurt turned on him, eyes lighting up. "They could use it?"

Blaine's mouth fell open, trying to shape thoughts into words. "I- I don't know. I don't… I don't think so."

Kurt swallowed roughly, lifting both hands to push through his wet hair in helpless frustration.

"We need to get inside," Blaine said. "Please, Kurt."

After a small pause lost in thought, Kurt nodded quickly, letting Blaine wrap his cape over both shoulders and guide him beneath the high arch of the balcony doors.

Their footfalls echoed through the huge, darkened ballroom; eery in its magnitude. The antique bones of the walls stuck out, picked clean of decoration, leaving only the floor-to-ceiling mirrors to cast too many creeping shadows over the seemingly endless floor.

Kurt shuffled through the empty space, eyes wandering over nothing, saturated clothes dripping puddles on the floor.

Blaine's arms were around him before he could even think to cry. His eyes were so dry they felt sore and heavy, too weary and burning in relief when he finally let them fall closed.

Everything had gone so wrong.

In one split second, one blinding flash of light, everything they'd planned had vanished into dust. All along he'd felt that this was the right plan, the right move to make. _This will work,_ he'd told himself, over and over. _Everything is going to be alright._

He was wrong.

His shoulders slumped as he leaned into the warmth of Blaine's body, content to simply be held until his heart remembered how to beat on its own again without the limp stutter of shock and loss.

"I will do… _everything_ in my power," Blaine promised him in hushed tones. "I can go back to the library. Read … everything I can find that could be something, some clue as to how we can find the power to get back."

"I'm fairly sure there's no how-to guide for portals to fairytale lands," Kurt mumbled dryly, stunned at how hollow his own voice seemed.

Blaine was unfazed, and simply pressed a kiss into his hair. "I will find one, or write one. We'll find a way."

Sighing heavily, Kurt opened his eyes. The weight of them was suddenly intense, almost too much, and he wondered why he even had to keep them open. Why couldn't he just close them again? Why couldn't he simply rock into Blaine's arms and sleep, and forget what the night had stolen away?

He was drifting, lost in the ebb and flow of hazy fractured thoughts when he saw it. It wasn't much; just a flicker, a flash of light in the reflection of the wall. He stiffened in Blaine's arms, blinking.

There it was again.

He pulled forward against Blaine's bicep, peering into the glass, trying to catch the spark of light again. After a quick glance over his shoulder to check for a source, he looked back, puzzled. There was no lantern or light source behind them, no late night guard or janitor carrying a flashlight.

The light swept across the surface of the mirrored wall in a wave this time, lightning-fast and golden in hue. The sharp hiss of Blaine's breath let Kurt know he wasn't the only one who'd seen it.

"What is that?" Kurt whispered, just loud enough for the two of them to hear over the tattoo of rain outside.

It trickled across the glass again, slower this time, rushing in golden fingers of light until a form took shape. Gradually, their own images faded from the reflection of the ballroom, blocked out by the building globe of sunlight.

He felt Blaine's arms tighten around him protectively, felt the angle of his body shift as Blaine tried to move between him and the mirror.

"Wait-" he dropped a hand to rest on Blaine's arm, "I don't think it's Sebastian."

Blaine narrowed his eyes, ignoring the rivulets of water trickling down his temples from his wet hair, curls plastered to his damp forehead.

"No green smoke," Kurt clarified.

As the embers of a silhouette separated into two and grew larger, the hues shifted into pale skin, and ripples of red and blue. The ballroom remained, somehow, in the mirror - void of their own reflections, as if it were somehow now just a sheet of glass between two identical rooms.

When the lights faded away, Kurt let out a shuddering, relieved breath. His eyes widened in awe at the smiling women staring back at him.

"Rachel… Quinn - you're-"

"Safe," Quinn said. Her voice was clear but tinny, like it came from far away.

"We're alright, Kurt," Rachel added, smiling at him.

He took a moment to let it sink in, eyelashes fluttering as he tried to understand. 

His weary mind absorbed the fragments of the whole picture slowly, took in their gowns; so similar yet still so different than the ones he'd seen them in half an hour ago, sweeping back in long trains and ruffles, rich hues of scarlet and royal blue interwoven with leaves. It wasn't until he noticed the elegant, silvery crown perched on Rachel's head, and a similar on Quinn's, that his jaw fell open in surprise. He hadn't felt Blaine's arms fall away from him, he was still reeling in shock.

Blaine had fallen to one knee, pressing a fist to the floor and bowing his head.

Kurt stepped back, blinking. "What-?"

"Blaine, come on. Up," Rachel insisted, laughing gently. "It's just us."

"But-"

"Blaine." Quinn's voice was firmer, but still fond. "You need never bow."

He rose carefully, keeping his eyes down. "Your majesties, I had no idea. Please believe me, had I known-"

"Blaine!" Rachel cut him off, grinning.

Kurt held up both hands, overwhelmed. "What just happened?"

"The Queens of Daltasia," Blaine uttered, fighting the overwhelming urge to kneel again. "They are… the …"

"Dual Queens?" Kurt asked, his voice loud and twanging on the air of the empty room. "Seriously?!"

Blaine's eyes flashed in a silent plea, and Kurt had to force down the giggle that threatened to burst out of him at the look on his face, the tiny begging eyes that said, _please don't insult my mythical deities._

He reached out and rubbed at Blaine's back soothingly before he glanced back to the mirror. 

"What - what happened?" he asked, twisting the heavy, wet cape off his shoulders and casting it aside. "We saw you disappear with him, but- then nothing?"

"When midnight struck, the spell began," Rachel said. "The sword drew itself back, and anything and everything it was touching came with it."

"So you're-"

"We're in Daltasia," Quinn confirmed. "When we got back, the royal guard were already waiting for Sebastian."

"Seems someone figured out what happened to the late Queen," Rachel said sadly, fixing Blaine with a sympathetic gaze. "Sebastian has been banished to the outlands."

"Good," Blaine said softly.

"More than that, the guards found us and - well," Quinn shrugged, "I think the dresses helped."

"And the fact she was holding the Queensword," Rachel added.

Kurt smiled, brow knitting together in delayed shock and confusion. "But you've only been gone for… for half an hour?"

Rachel's eyes widened, and she glanced back over her shoulder at Quinn.

"Kurt… we've been gone _three days,_ " she said carefully.

"It took that long to harness the sword. To find a way to talk to you again," Quinn said carefully. 

"Your majesties," Blaine interrupted softly. "Kurt speaks the truth, this side of the mirror it has only been a short time."

Rachel smiled gently. "Well, I'm glad the shorter span was on your side."

Quinn's hand found hers, and they exchanged a soft look, grateful their friends hadn't suffered for days wondering where they'd gone.

"The time doesn't matter," Quinn said. "We're - staying here."

Blaine beamed at them, eyes sparkling and lit up with the muted golden light emanating from the mirror. 

"You're staying?" Kurt asked, shocked. "Wh- why? You can't stay, you have-"

"Kurt," Rachel cut him off, her tone even but aching. "You know this is what was meant to happen. Quinn leaving her job. Us finding each other again, me taking a break - wanting something bigger, something _better_ , for myself. The … the whole Dual Queens legend, the dresses, all of it. You really think this was all a coincidence?"

Kurt seized a stunted breath as all the pieces of the puzzle snapped and locked together in his mind, completed now and perfect in the vision of his best friend, gazing back at him through the mirror.

After a long time simply staring at her, lost for words, he let out a huff of laughter. "You're going to make quite the Queen."

She grinned at him, tipping her head to the side affectionately.

"I don't know if it was always supposed to be us," she said. "But we certainly seem to fit the bill. And you know me, I always play the part, to the end."

"This place needs us," Quinn chimed in. "There's so much good we can do here. It's like… we've both known, for a long time, that we never truly fit in that world. Maybe we were always meant for this one."

"One red, for passion and love and spirit," Blaine said softly, glancing between the two. "One blue, for law and logic and reason."

Kurt gasped quietly, and Blaine slipped an arm down around his waist to steady him.

"Plus I always did look good in a tiara," Rachel added with a cheeky smile and a tiny tip of her shoulder.

"But I-" Kurt's heart sank when realisation came flooding in, sharp and strong and bitter. "I'll never see you again."

Watching him sadly, Rachel swallowed and gave a short nod. With a tiny step, she reached out and rested her hand on her side of the glass. 

Kurt mirrored her movement, unable to stop the sudden prickle of tears at the corners of his eyes.

"You don't need me," Rachel scoffed, holding back tears of her own. "You have your prince. And he has his."

He laughed wetly, wishing he could feel her hand under his and not just the cold, smooth glass. "I'll miss you."

"I already do," Rachel said with a little smile. "But maybe… this is how we both get our happily ever after."

Kurt nodded, letting his hand fall and sinking into Blaine's arms as they circled around him comfortingly.

"We'll always be here," Quinn told them as Rachel stepped back to her side. "Just behind the mirror."

There was a strange surge of comfort in his chest at that. The awareness that past every surface, somewhere in the deep, Daltasia was real, and thriving.

"No goodbyes," Rachel insisted, scrunching her nose up slightly. "And when you tell your kids about all of this someday, hey," she gave a tiny shrug as their figures started to glow and dissipate again, drifting into golden hues of light and fading back to Kurt and Blaine's own reflection, "you know how the story starts."

Kurt watched them fade out, resting his head against Blaine's, unblinking until all that was left in the mirror was their own reflection. 

He let out a shaky breath, and said to the empty hall; "Once upon a time…"

Blaine shifted to kiss his temple, eyes closed, breathing roughly. After a moment, he grew restless, clinging tighter to Kurt's body and holding him close.

Still reeling in the wake of everything that had just happened, it took Kurt a second to realise that Blaine's hands were drifting over his back and his shoulders, clutching at him desperately as he pressed tiny, tear-stained kisses into his hair.

"Hey, hey," Kurt turned against him, cradling his head as it came to rest on his shoulder.

Blaine sobbed gently.

"It's alright," he said in gentle, hushed tones. "They're safe. We're safe. It's alright."

"No, it's-" Blaine voice was thick and unrecognisable. "Everything. My home is... Daltasia is whole again. And my people are safe, and the prophecy has come to be. Lady Rachel has her princess, Sebastian is banished," his fists tightened in Kurt's shirt as he pressed against him. "We get to stay."

Kurt smiled, running his fingers through the still-damp curls of Blaine's hair and resting his cheek against it. "We get to stay."

"I get to stay with you, Kurt, we can- I get to- we can _stay_." 

Blaine was crying openly now, broken and shaking with disbelief. Somehow, everything he'd ever wanted for himself, for his people, just came true, and the relief was earth-shattering.

It was all Kurt could do not to let them both sink to the floor and simply cling to each other to keep themselves from breaking under the unsteadying, potent mixture of adrenaline, exhaustion and gratitude.

Instead he held on until Blaine finally settled in his arms, breathing evenly at last. After a long pause, Kurt found himself squirming uncomfortably in his wet clothing, grimacing at thought of the state of his hair. 

"We should go home," he suggested softly. "Get warm."

Nodding against his collarbone, Blaine finally shifted and pulled back, eyes red and still bright. 

"Home," he said breathlessly.

Kurt smiled at him, rubbing his arm gently. "Come on."

The cab ride home seemed to take mere seconds as time drowned out in the endless open swoop of the city, suddenly so grand again and laid bare all around them. New York was theirs, the world was theirs, once again. Kurt didn't know whether to laugh or cry at their ridiculous fortune, but settled for holding Blaine's hand in his own, thumb stroking softly over the line of his knuckles. The universe had broadened, had grown so much more vast in the aftermath of a fairytale reality, and Blaine would always be his anchor.

They climbed into the shower together when they got home. They'd stripped of their soggy armour for the evening quickly, stepping under the barrage of scalding water, content to simply breathe deep the rising steam. 

Kurt didn't care how long they'd been in there, letting the heat sink in and stroking and pressing against each other lazily under the spray of water. He didn't care what time it was or what day it was anymore.

When they finally shut the water off and clambered out, wiping themselves down, they didn't go any further than Kurt's bed - _their_ bed - happy to simply collapse onto the mattress and curl up in the quilt, naked and pressed skin to skin, riding on the ever-present need to be closer to each other, to feel the other in their bones.

He felt the strong lines of Blaine's hands trailing down his spine, cupping the curves of his ass, sliding over his thighs and loving every inch of him in sweet, lazy strokes; familiar and warm and perfect. With a contented, exhausted sigh, he settled down on Blaine's chest, mouthing an open kiss over his bare shoulder before he rested his cheek against it and closed his eyes.

He was drifting, floating on a tide of peace and weariness, still tinted with the lightness of relief, when he heard Blaine's voice against his ear.

"What?" Kurt asked softly, blinking his eyes open and shifting to look at him.

"I said," Blaine mumbled, eyes half-lidded and just as sleepy. "I think I already love happily ever after."

Kurt snuffled softly, shaking his head. "No, no, this isn- there is no-" He sighed in frustration. "There is no happily ever after, that's not what this is."

Blaine's hands ghosted over his back again, stroking him gently. "Kurt, I love you," he said, eyes dark and sincere. "After everything that's happened tonight, after everything we've been through, you honestly still believe that?"

Closing his eyes, Kurt dropped his forehead to Blaine's chest. "I -no. Just. Don't say it, please," he whispered.

"Oh," Blaine's eyes widened. "I think - I understand."

Kurt didn't look up, but nuzzled against Blaine's neck, pressing a tiny kiss to his throat and another to his jaw.

A hand came up to cup his cheek, to guide his face up so their eyes met. Kurt looked down immediately, embarrassed.

"You don't want happily ever after," Blaine said. "You never wanted happily ever after because… because that's the end of the story?"

Kurt nodded softly, pressing his cheek into Blaine's palm and letting his eyes fall closed again.

He wasn't surprised when Blaine surged to kiss him, and he opened up under the sweep of Blaine's tongue, the perfect drag of his lips. Blaine crashed their mouths together desperately, sucking on Kurt's lip and holding it for a moment before he pressed in again, hot and sweet and exquisitely familiar. 

_I could do this forever with you._

"I love you," Kurt breathed as they pulled apart. 

Blaine pressed a soft kiss to his lips, and another to his nose, gathering his hand in his own to press a third to his fingertips. 

With that, Kurt dropped down again, stretching out over Blaine's body and using his chest as a pillow, warm and thrumming against his cheek with a _(steady, real, perfect)_ heartbeat playing like a muted drum. He let himself sink down into the bliss, revelling in the peace that came with what felt like the ending of a story.

And tomorrow, they could begin a new one.

"I will…" Blaine whispered to him, " _always_ love you. No matter what the storybooks say."

Kurt smiled, eyes closed, body rising and falling with Blaine's breath.

"Because that's the thing about happy endings," Blaine said, meeting Kurt's loving gaze when his eyes flickered open, and smiling back. "It's not that they live happily ever after -

"It's that they _live._ "


	15. Epilogue

After a week had passed, mostly lost to the sudden and absolute _realness_ of reality as it clawed its way back into their lives, Kurt took them back to Grimms past the street where they'd first met.

It seemed so much smaller now, even in the dark; the open pavement and asphalt where he'd found his prince, bleeding and brand new, less than a month ago.

It felt like a century.

He remembered the look on Blaine's face, Blaine's hand on his arm, the grazes on his palms. The pounding of adrenaline in his veins and the way the world had changed in an instant, in a single terrified breath when he'd refused to run.

_Are you alright, brave knight?_

It was so long ago, but barely any time had passed.

They stumbled home again after a round at the bar, arms around each other's backs, riding a pleasant, heady buzz. In Blaine's case, with his fairly inexperienced liver, the buzz gave way to full-blow-drunk all to soon and he collapsed on the couch with his arms in the air, waxing poetic about the joys of good mead.

Kurt laughed and climbed over him, winding their fingers together. He settled down on the couch, staring at Blaine's bright and beautiful face as he spoke.

He didn't quite take in the words, too lost in the honey-brown warmth of Blaine's eyes as they darted everywhere, flashing and widening and falling again for emphasis. He traced them with his gaze, memorising the long dark lines of his eyelashes, the slope of his nose, and the soft pink swell of his lips.

_This is real._

Leaning down, Kurt silenced him with a tiny, chaste kiss. He barely pulled away before Blaine's mouth was chasing his retreat, and he settled in again with a laugh, brushing their lips together in soft sweeps until Blaine opened up beneath him, sweet and pliant, eager to surrender everything.

Kurt rolled down on top of him, dipped his tongue deep and mapped the smooth, warm lines of Blaine's mouth, moaning as Blaine's hands found his hips and squeezed.

It was slow, and raw like it had always been; the world fell away when they had each other spread out and willing to be explored. Kurt stripped them both down carefully, still tingling from the evening's adventures and smiling sleepily as Blaine laid himself out on the cushions, naked and unabashed and beautiful as ever, offering up his body with dark and lustful eyes.

Kurt took his time, sucking marks into his skin, re-learning the cut of his hipbones and the sounds he made when he grazed his teeth over a nipple. He kept them twined together, always touching, drifting in and out on a lazy rhythm. It had been hours since they got home, but it always took that long now - unwilling to miss a single inch of skin with their mouths, with their hands, kissing and rutting and stroking each other to completion, and long after it.

When they slowed again, Kurt slipped into the crevice between Blaine and the couch cushions, snuggling down with Blaine's arm coiled under his shoulder. He reached out to sweep his fingers through Blaine's hair, to push the curls back off his face and feel how soft they were, twisting around his fingertips. He smiled as he thumbed over the white line of Blaine's scar, still slightly pink around the edges from healing.

"Kurt," Blaine said softly.

"Mmm?"

"When I asked you," he began carefully, staring at the ceiling as he trailed light patterns over Kurt's shoulder, "to marry me, I- I need you to know, I meant it."

"I know."

"It wasn't about Dalt-"

"I know," Kurt cut him off, rolling his head against the warm skin of his chest and pressing a wet kiss to it. "Nothing's changed."

"Everything's changed," Blaine said. "But for the better."

Kurt smiled sleepily.

"I have this whole… life here now." Blaine's voice had shifted slightly, more serious now, and clear. "There's so much I want to see. To do. To read. I want to spend days in that library."

With a laugh, Kurt closed his eyes.

"I want to spend … years, seeing the world. Experiencing what's out there. But-"

Kurt tilted, trying to catch the look on his face, too warm and too comfortable to properly move.

"I want to spend the rest of my life … with you."

Nuzzling against his chest, Kurt coiled his arms tightly around Blaine's body, squeezing to reinforce he felt the same.

"Do you know maybe what you might want to do, for a living?" Kurt asked after a moment.

He felt Blaine move beneath him, a tiny shift that could easily have been nodding. 

"I think - I want to teach."

Kurt smiled.

"I love to learn. I want to learn everything, as much as I can, and then - to share it."

He tried not to melt at the sudden flash of images that his imagination conjured; Blaine standing in a classroom with chalk handprints on the pockets of his pants, surrounded by kindergarteners all staring up at him in wide-eyed wonder.

"It sounds … perfect," Kurt told him.

"Kurt?"

"Mmm?"

"Do you believe in fate?"

Kurt considered for a moment, eyes wandering over the dimly lit room, not really looking for anything in particular. "I didn't before."

"But now?"

"I think-" Kurt sighed softly. "I think there's something. I don't know what it is, but Rachel and Quinn, and the way everything happened…"

"I came here," Blaine began, wetting his lips. "On a street that happened to be on your way home."

Laughing softly, Kurt stroked his thumb down the the ladder of Blaine's ribs, lost in the beautiful expanse of olive skin as it rose and fell beside him. "I do, believe in fate. Even if fairytales were always just stories. They were made by someone. They're _real_... to someone. To us."

"I think," Blaine swallowed, "that I was - _made_ \- for you."

Kurt closed his eyes tightly, throat hollow and skin burning hot with a surge of sudden affection as he rose up to kiss Blaine again, and again, sinking down into the couch cushions as their bodies came together completely.

The tiny, doubting voice in his head had been silenced in the wake of the week before. It wasn't a question anymore, it was a proven reality, _their_ reality - and so much that had seemed unreal, that surely _had_ to be a dream, had fallen into place like the hands of a clock meeting midnight.

For now, drifting and aching and crying out again in ecstasy under the hands of his prince, he was content to forget the person he was - a man who didn't believe in love, and didn't know the truth about fairytales, 

_Once upon a time._


End file.
